Petrarch in English

Home > Other > Petrarch in English > Page 4
Petrarch in English Page 4

by Thomas Roche (ed)


  The Triumph of Love, translated out of Petrarch

  Chap. I

  The Argument

  A vision shews the captived

  By mighty Love in triumph led.

  It was the time, when I doe sadly pay

  My sighs, in tribute to that sweet-sowre-day,

  Which first gave being to my tedious woes:

  The Sunne, now o’re the Bulls horns proudly goes,

  And Phaëton had renew’d his wonted race:

  When Love, the Season, and my owne ill case,

  Drew me that solitary place to finde,

  In which I oft unload my charged minde:

  There tir’d with raving thoughts and helplesse moans,

  10 Sleep seal’d my eyes up, and, my senses gone,

  My waking fancie spied a shining light,

  In which appear’d long pain, and short delight.

  A mighty Generall, I then did see,

  Like one, who (for some glorious victory)

  Should to the Capitol in triumph go:

  I (who had not been us’d to such a show

  In this soft age, where we no valour have

  But pride) admir’d his habit, strange and brave,

  And having rais’d mine eyes, which wearied were,

  20 To understand this sight was all my care.

  Foure snowie steeds a fiery Chariot drew;

  There sat the cruel boy; a threatning ewe

  His right hand bore, his Quiver arrowes held,

  Against whose force, no helme or shield prevail’d.

  Two party-coloured wings his shoulders ware;

  All naked else; and round about his chaire

  Were thousand mortals: some in battell tain,

  Many were hurt with darts, and many slain.

  Glad to learn newes I rose, and forward prest

  30 So farre, that I was one amongst the rest;

  As if I had been kill’d with loving pain

  Before my time; and looking through the train

  Of this teare-thirsty King, I would have spi’d

  Some of my old acquaintance, but descri’d

  No face I knew: If any such there were,

  They were transform’d with prison, death and care.

  At last one Ghost, lesse sad than th’others, came,

  Who neare approaching, call’d me by my name.

  And said: This comes of Love: What may you be,

  40 (I answer’d, wondring much) that thus know me?

  For I remember not t’have seen your face.

  He thus reply’d: It is the duskie place

  That dull’s thy sight, and this hard yoake I beare:

  Else I a Thuscan am; thy friend, and deare

  To thy remembrance: his wonted phrase

  And voyce did then discover what he was.

  So we retir’d aside, and left the throng,

  When thus he spake; I have expected long

  To see you here with us; your face did seem

  50 To threaten you no lesse. I doe esteem

  Your prophesies; but I have seen what care

  Attends a Lovers life; and must beware.

  Yet have I oft been beaten in the field,

  And sometimes hurt, said I, but scorn’d to yeeld.

  He smil’d and said: Alas! thou dost not see,

  (My sonne) how great a flame’s prepar’d for thee.

  I knew not then what by his words he meant;

  But since I finde it by the dire event:

  And in my memory ’tis fixt so fast,

  60 That marble gravings cannot firmer last.

  Mean while my forward youth did thus enquire:

  What may these people be? I much desire

  To know their names, pray, give me leave to aske.

  I thinke ere long, ’twill be a needlesse taske

  (Replied my friend) thou shalt be of the train,

  And know them all; this captivating chain

  Thy neck must beare, (though thou dost little feare)

  And sooner change thy comely forme and haire,

  Then be unfettered from the cruell tie,

  70 How ere thou struggle for thy liberty;

  Yet to fulfill thy wish, I wil relate

  What I have learn’d. The first that keeps such state,

  By whom, our lives and freedomes we foregoe,

  The world hath call’d him Love; and he (you know

  But shal know better when he comes to be

  A Lord to you, as now he is to me)

  Is in his child-hood milde, fierce in his age;

  ’Tis best beleev’d of those that feel his rage.

  The truth of this thou in thy selfe shalt finde,

  80 I warn thee now, pray keep it in thy mind.

  Of idle loosenesse, he is oft the childe;

  With pleasant fancies nourisht, and is stil’d

  Or made a God by vain and foolish men:

  And for a recompense, some meet their bane:

  Others, a harder slavery must endure,

  Than many thousand chains and bolts procure.

  That other gallant Lord, is conquerour

  Of conquering Rome, led captive by the faire

  Egyptian Queen, with her perswasive Art

  90 Who in his honours claimes the greatest part:

  For binding the worlds victor with her charmes,

  His Trophees are all hers by right of armes.

  The next is his adoptive sonne, whose love

  May seem more just, but doth no better prove;

  For though he did his loved Livia wed,

  She was seduced from her husbands bed.

  Nero is third, disdainfull, wicked, fierce;

  And yet a woman found a way to pierce

  His angry soul. Behold Marcus the grave

  100 Wise Emperour is fair Faustina’s slave:

  These two are tyrants: Dionysius,

  And Alexander, both suspicious,

  And yet both loved: the last a just reward

  Found of his causeless feare. I know y’ have heard

  Of him, who for Creusa on the rock

  Antandrus mourn’d so long; whose-warlike stroke

  At once, reveng’d his friend, and wonne his love:

  And of the youth whom Phedra could not move

  T’ abuse his fathers bed; he left the place,

  110 And by his vertue lost his life (for base

  Unworthy loves to rage doe quickly change)

  It kill’d her too; perhaps in just revenge

  Of wrong’d Theseus, slain Hyppolito,

  And poore forsaken Ariadne: so

  It often proves that they who falsely blame

  Another, in one breath themselves condemme:

  And who have guilty been of treachery,

  Need not complain, if they deceived be.

  Behold the brave Heros a captive made

  120 With all his fame, and twixt these sisters led:

  Who, as he joy’d the death of th’ one to see,

  His death did ease the others misery.

  The next that followeth, though the world admire

  His strength, Love bound him. Th’ other full of ire

  Is great Achilles, he whose pittied fate

  Was caus’d by love. Demophoon did not hate

  Impatient Phyllis, yet procur’d her death.

  This Jason is, he whom Medea hath

  Oblig’d by mischief; she to her father prov’d

  130 False, to her brother cruel; t’him she lov’d

  Grew furious, by her merit over-priz’d.

  Hypsiphile comes next, mournfull, despis’d,

  Wounded to see a strangers love prevail

  More then her owne a Greek. Here is the frail

  Fair Helena, with her the Shepherd boy,

  Whose gazing looks hurt Greece, and ruin’d Troy.

  ’Mongst other weeping souls, you heare the moan

  Enone makes, her Paris being gone,

  And Menelaus,
for the woe he had

  140 To lose his wife. Hermione is sad,

  And cals her deare Orestes to her aid.

  And Laodamia, that haplesse maide

  Bewails Protesilaus. Argia prov’d

  To Polinice more faithfull then the lov’d

  (But false and covetous) Amphiaraos wife.

  The groanes, and sighes of those who lose their life

  By this kind Lord, in unrelenting flames

  You heare: I cannot tell you halfe their names,

  For they appeare not onely men that love,

  150 The gods themselves doe fill this mirtle grove:

  You see faire Venus catch’t by Vulcan’s Art

  With angry Mars: Proserpina apart

  From Pluto, jealous Juno, yellow-hair’d

  Apollo, who the young god’s courage dar’d;

  And of his trophees proud, laught at the bow,

  Which in Thessalia gave him such a blow.

  What shal I say? here, in a word, are all

  The gods that Varro mentions, great and small;

  Each with innumerable bonds detain’d,

  160 And Jupiter before the chariot chain’d.

  Chap. II

  The Argument

  Brave Massinissa doth relate

  His Love: Seleucus his hard fate.

  Weari’d, not satisfi’d, with much delight,

  Now here, now there I turn’d my greedy sight,

  And many things I view’d: to write were long,

  The time is short, great store of passions throng

  Within my brest: when loe, a lovely paire,

  Joyn’d hand in hand, who kindly talking were,

  Drew my attention that way: their attire

  And forrain language quickned my desire

  Of further knowledge, which I soon might gain;

  10 My kinde Interpreter did all explain.

  When both I knew, I boldly then drew neare;

  He lov’d our countrey, though she made it feare.

  O! Massinissa; I adjure thee by

  Great Scipio, and her who from thine eye

  Drew manly tears (said I) let it not be

  A trouble, what I must demand of thee.

  He lookt, and said: I first desire to know

  Your name and qualitie, for well you show

  Y’have heard the combate in my wounded soul,

  20 When Love did Friendship, Friendship Love controul.

  I am not worth your knowledge, my poore flame

  Gives little light (said I:) your royall fame,

  Sets hearts on fire, that never see your face:

  But (pray you) say: are you two led in peace

  By him? (I shew’d their guide) your History

  Deserves record: it seemeth strange to me,

  That faith and cruelty should come so neare.

  He said; Thine owne expressions witnesse beare.

  Thou knowst enough, yet I will all relate

  30 To thee, ’t will somewhat ease my heavie state.

  On that brave man my heart was fixt so much,

  That Lelius love to him could be but such;

  Where ere his colours marched, I was nigh,

  And Fortune did attend with victory:

  Yet still his merit call’ d for more then she

  Could give; or any else deserve but he.

  When to the West the Romane Eagles came

  My self was also there, and catcht a flame,

  A purer never burnt in Lovers brest:

  40 But such a joy could not long be possesst!

  Our nuptiall knot (alas!) he soone untide,

  Who had more power then all the world beside!

  He car’d not for our sighes; and though’t be true

  That he divided us, his worth I knew:

  He must be blinde that cannot see the Sunne,

  But by strict justice Love is quite undone:

  Counsel from such a friend gave such a stroke

  To Love, it almost split, as on a rock:

  For as my father I his wrath did feare,

  50 And as a sonne he in my love was deare;

  Brothers in age we were, him I obey’d,

  But with a troubled soul and look dismaid:

  Thus my dear halfe had an untimely death,

  She priz’d her freedome far above her breath;

  And I th’unhappy instrument was made;

  Such force th’ intreaty and intreater had!

  I rather chose myself than him t’offend,

  And sent the poyson brought her to her end:

  With what sad thoughts I know, and she’l confesse,

  60 And you, if you have sense of Love, may guess;

  No heire she left me, but my tedious moan;

  And though in her my hopes, and joyes were gone,

  She was of lower value than my faith!

  But now farewell, and trie if this troup hath

  Another wonder; for the time is lesse

  Then is the taske: I pittied their distresse,

  Whose short joy ended in so sharp a woe:

  My soft heart melted: As they onward goe,

  This youth for his part, I perhaps could love

  70 (She said) but nothing can my minde remove

  From hatred of the Nation; He replide,

  Good Sophonisba you may leave this pride,

  Your City hath by us been three times beat,

  The last of which (you know) we laid it flat.

  Pray use these words t’ another, not to me

  (Said she) if Africk mourned, Italy

  Needs not rejoyce; search your records, and there

  See what you gained by the Punick warre.

  He that was friend to both, without reply

  80 A little smiling, vanisht from mine eye

  Amongst the croud: As one in doubtfull way

  At every step looks round, and fears to stray

  (Care stops his journey) so the varied store

  Of Lovers staid me, to examine more,

  And trie what kinde of fire burnt every brest:

  When on my left hand strayed from the rest

  Was one, whose looke exprest a ready minde

  In seeking what he joy’d, (yet sham’d to finde;)

  He freely gave away his dearest wife,

  90 (A new found way to save a Lovers life)

  She, though she joy’d, yet blushed at the change.

  As they recounted their affections strange,

  And for their Syria mourn’d; I tooke the way

  Of these three Ghosts, who seem’d their course to stay,

  And take another path: the first I held

  And bid him turne; he started, and beheld

  Me with a troubled look, hearing my tongue

  Was Romane, such a pause he made, as sprung

  From some deep thought; then spake as if inspir’d,

  100 For to my wish, he told what I desir’d

  To know: Seleucus is (said he) my name,

  This is Antiochus my sonne, whose fame

  Hath reacht your eare; he warred much with Rome,

  But Reason oft by Power is overcome.

  This woman, once my Wife, doth now belong

  To him; I gave her, and it was no wrong

  In our Religion; it staid his death,

  Threatned by Love; Stratonica she hath

  To name: so now we may enjoy one state,

  110 And our fast friendship shal out-last all date.

  She from her height was willing to descend;

  I quit my joy; he rather chose his end

  Then our offence; and in his prime had dide,

  Had not the wise Physician been our guide;

  Silence in Love oercame his vitall part;

  His love was force, his silence vertuous Art.

  A fathers tender care made me agree

  To this strange change. This said, he turn’d from me,

  As changing his designe, with such a pace,

 
120 Ere I could take my leave, h’ had quit the place.

  After the Ghost was carried from mine eye

  Amazedly I walkt; nor could untie

  My minde from his sad story; till my friend

  Admonisht me, and said: You must not lend

  Attention thus to every thing you meet;

  You know the number’s great, and time is fleet.

  More naked prisoners this triumph had

  Than Xerxes souldiers in his army led:

  And stretched further than my sight could reach;

  130 Of severall Countreyes, and of differing speech.

  One of a thousand were not knowne to me,

  Yet might those few make a large History.

  Perseus was one; and well you know the way

  How he was catched by Andromida:

  She was a lovely brownet, black her haire

  And eyes. Narcissus, too, the foolish faire,

  Who for his own love did himselfe destroy;

  He had so much, he nothing could enjoy.

  And she, who for his losse, deep sorrow’s slave,

  140 Chang’d to a voyce, dwells in a hollow cave.

  Iphis was there, who hasted his own fate,

  He lov’d another, but himselfe did hate;

  And many moe condemn’d like woes to prove,

  Whose life was made a curse by haplesse love.

  Some modern Lovers in my minde remain,

  But those to reckon here were needlesse pain.

  The two, whose constant loves for ever last,

  On whom the winds wait while they build their nest;

  For Halcion dayes poore labouring saylers please,

  150 And in rough winter calme the boystrous seas.

  Far off the thoughtfull Æsacus, in quest

  Of his Epiria, findes a rocky rest,

  Then diveth in the floods, then mounts i’th’ aire.

  And she who stole old Nisus purple haire

  His cruel daughter, I observ’d to fly.

  Swift Atalanta ran for victory,

  But three gold apples, and a lovely face,

  Slackt her quick paces, till she lost the race:

  She brought Hippomanes along, and joy’d

  160 That he, as others, had not been destroy’d,

  But of the victory could singly boast.

 

‹ Prev