Petrarch in English
Page 4
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.