# Poems, Consisting Chiefly of Translations from the Asiatick Languages/An Ode of Petrach

AN
ODE OF PETRARCH,
TO THE
FOUNTAIN OF VALCHIUSA.
YE clear and sparkling streams, Warm'd by the sunny beams,
Through whose transparent crystal Laura play'd; Ye boughs, that deck the grove. Where Spring her chaplets wove, While Laura lay beneath the quivering shade;
Sweet herbs, and blushing flowers, That crown yon vernal bowers For ever fatal, yet for ever dear; And ye, that heard my sighs When first she charm'd my eyes, Soft-breathing gales, my dying accents hear.
If heaven has fix'd my doom, That Love must quite consume My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death; Ah! grant this flight request, That hero my urn may rest When to its mansion flies my vital breath. This pleasing hope will smooth My anxious wind, and sooth The pangs of that inevitable hour; My spirit will not grieve
Her mortal veil to leave
In these calm shades, and this enchanting bower.
Haply the guilty maid Through yon accustom'd glade To my sad tomb will take her lonely way; Where first her breauty's light O'erpower'd my dazzled sight, When Love on this fair border bade me stray There forrowing shall she see, Beneath an aged tree, Her true but hapless lover's lowly bier; Too late her tender sighs Shall melt the pitying skies, And her soft veil shall hide the gushing tear.
O! well-remember'd day, When on yon bank fhe lay, Meek in her pride, and in her rigour mild; The young and blooming flowers, Falling in fragrant fhowers, Shone on her heck, and on her bofom ftnil'd: Soine on he-r mantle hung, Some in her lopks were ftrung, Like orient gerns in rings of flaming gold; Some, in a Ipicy cloud Descending, call'd aloud, "Here Love and Youth the reins of empire hold."
I view'd the heavenly maid; And, rapt in wonder, said "The groves of Eden gave this angel birth;" Her look, her voice, her smile, That might all heaven beguile, Wasted my soul above the realms of earth: The star-bespangled skies Were open'd to my eyes; Sighing I said, "Whence rose this glittering scene?" Since that auspicious hour, This bank, and odorous bower, My morning couch, and evening haunt, have been.
Well mayst thou blush, my song, To leave the rural throng, And fly thus artless to my Laura's ear; But, were thy poet's fire Ardent as his desire, Thou wert a song that heaven might stoop to hear.
Canzone 27.
Chiare, fresche, e dolci acque, Ove le belle membra Pose colei, che sola a me par doana; Gentil ramo, ove piacque (Con fofpir mi rimembra) A lei di fare al bel fianco colonna;
Erba e fior', che la gonna Leggiadra ricoverse Coll' angelico seno; Aer sacro sereno Ov' Amor co' begli occhi il cor m' aperse; Date udicnza insieme Alle dolenti mie parole estreme.
S' egli e pur mio deftino, E'l cielo in cio s' adopra, Ch' amor quefti oechi lagrimando chiuda, Qualche grazia il mefehino Corpo fra voi ricopra; E torni l' alma al proprio albergo ignuda: La morte fia men cruda, Se quefta fpeme porto A quel dubbiofo paffo; Che lo fpirito laffo Non poria mai in piu ripofato porto N'eri piu tranquilla foffa Fuggir la carne travagliata e l' offa
Tempo verra ancor forfe Ch' all' ufato foggiorno Torni la fera bella e manfueta; E la, ov' ella mi fcorfe Nel benedetto giorno Volga la vifta deliofa e lieta, Cercandomi, ed, o pieta, Gia terra infra la pietre Vedendo, Amor l' infpiri In guifa che fofpiri Si dolcemente che merce m' impetre, E faccia forza al cielo Afcuigandofi gli occhi col bel velo
Da' bei rami fcendea Dolce nella rpeit)oria Una pioggia di fior fovra '1 fuo grembo; Ed ella fi fedea, flumile in tanta gloria Coverta gia dell' amorofo nerabo: Qual fior cadea ful lembo, Qual fulle treccie bionde, Ch' oro fqrbito e perle Eran. quel di a vederle, Qual fi pofava in terra, e qual full' onde; Qual con un vagp errore CJinmdo parea dir, " Qui regna Amore."
Quante volte diffs'io Allor pien di fpavento "Coftei per fermo nacque in paradifo," Cofi carco d' oblio Il divin portamento E'l volto, e le parole, e'l dolce rifo M' aveano, e fi divifo Dall' imagine vera, Ch' i' dicea fofpirando, "Qui come venn' io, o quando?" Credendo effer' in ciel, non la dov' era. Da indi in qua mi piace Quefta erba fi ch' altrove non o pace.
Se tu aveffi ornamenti quant' ai voglia, Potrefti arditamente Ufcir del bofco, e gir' infra la gente.