Petrarch in English

by Thomas Roche (ed)

  Where, in his dede, shame hath him alwaies gnawen:

  Doutyng report, that should come to her care:

  Whom now he blames, her wonted he to feare.

  What euer he hath of any honest custome:

  120 Of her, and me: that holdes he euerywhit,

  But, lo, yet neuer was there nightly fantome

  So farre in errour, as he is from his wit.

  To plain on vs, he striueth with the bit,

  Which may rule him, and do him ease, and pain:

  And in one hower, make all his grief his gayn.

  But, one thing yet there is, aboue all other:

  I gaue him winges, wherwith he might vpflie

  To honor, and fame: and if he would to higher

  Than mortall thinges, aboue the starry skie:

  130 Considering the pleasure, that an eye

  Might geue in earth, by reason of the loue:

  What should that be that lasteth still aboue?

  And he the same himself hath sayd, ere this.

  But, now, forgotten is both that and I,

  That gaue her him, his onely wealth and blisse.

  And, at this word, with dedly shreke and cry:

  Thou gaue her once: quod I, but by and by,

  Thou toke her ayen from me: that wo worth the.

  Not I but price: more worth than thou (quod he.)

  140 At last: eche other for himself, concluded:

  I, trembling still: but he, with small reuerence.

  Lo, thus, as we eche other haue accused:

  Dere Lady: now we waite thyne onely sentence.

  She smiling, at the whisted audience:

  It liketh me (quod she) to haue hard your question:

  But, lenger time doth ask a resolucion.

  P121: Or vedi, Amor, che giovenetta donna

  69. Request to Cupid, for reuenge of his vnkinde loue

  Behold, Loue, thy power how she dispiseth:

  My gretious payn how litle she regardeth,

  The solemne othe, wherof she takes no cure

  Broken she hath: and yet, she bideth sure,

  Right at her ease, and litle thee she dredeth.

  Weaponed thou art, and she vnarmed sitteth:

  To the disdainful, all her life she leadeth:

  To me spitefull, withoute iust cause, or mesure.

  Behold, Loue, how proudly she triumpheth,

  10 I am in hold, but if thee pitie the meueth:

  Go, bend thy bow, that stony hartes breaketh:

  And with some stroke reuenge the great displeasure

  Of thee, and him that sorow doth endure,

  And as his Lord thee lowly here entreateth.

  P153: Ite, caldi sospiri, alfreddo core

  77. The louer sendeth his complaints and teares to sue for grace

  Passe forth my wonted cryes,

  Those cruell eares to pearce,

  Which in most hateful wyse

  Doe styll my plaintes reuerse.

  Doe you, my teares, also

  So wet her barrein hart:

  That pitye there may grow,

  And crueltie depart.

  For though hard rockes among

  10 She semes to haue bene bred:

  And of the Tigre long

  Bene nourished, and fed.

  Yet shall that nature change

  If pitie once win place.

  Whom as vnknowen, and strange,

  She now away doth chase.

  And as the water soft,

  Without forcyng or strength,

  Where that it falleth oft,

  20 Hard stones doth perse at length:

  So in her stony hart

  My plaintes at last shall graue,

  And, rygour set apart,

  Winne grant of that I craue.

  Wherfore my plaintes, present

  Styll so to her my sute,

  As ye, through her assent,

  May bring to me some frute.

  And as she shall me proue,

  30 So bid her me regarde,

  And render loue for loue:

  Which is a just reward.

  P57: Mie venture al venir son tarde e pigre

  94. How vnpossible it is to finde quiet in his loue

  Euer my hap is slack and slowe in commyng

  Desire encreasyng ay my hope vncertaine

  That loue or wait it, alike doth me payne

  And Tygre like so swift it is in partyng.

  Alas the snow black shal it be and scalding,

  The sea waterles, and fishe vpon the mountaine:

  The Temis shal backe returne into his fountaine:

  And where he rose the sunne shall take his lodgyng.

  Ere I in this finde peace or quietnesse.

  10 Or that loue or my lady rightwisely

  Leaue to conspire against me wrongfully.

  And if I haue after such bitternesse,

  Any thing swete, my mouth is out of taste:

  That all my trust and trauell is but waste.

  P124: Amor, Fortuna e la mia mente schiva

  95. Of Loue, Fortune, and the louers minde

  Loue, Fortune, and my minde which do remember

  Eke that is now, and that that once hath bene:

  Torment my hart so sore that very often

  I hate and enuy them beyonde all measure.

  Loue sleeth my hart while Fortune is depriuer

  Of all my comfort: the folishe minde than:

  Burneth and playneth: as one that sildam

  Liueth in rest. Still in displeasure

  My pleasant daies they flete away and passe.

  10 And dayly doth myne yll change to the worse.

  While more than halfe is runne now of my course.

  Alas not of stele, but of brittle glasse,

  I se that from my hand falleth my trust:

  And all my thoughtes are dasshed into dust.

  P21: Mille fiate, o dolce mia guerrera

  96. The Louer prayeth his offred hart to be receiued

  How oft haue I, my deare and cruell fo:

  With my great pain to get som peace or truce,

  Geuen you my hart? but you do not vse,

  In so hie thinges, to cast your minde so low.

  If any other loke for it, as you trow,

  Their vaine weake hope doth greatly them abuse.

  And that thus I disdayne, that you refuse.

  It was once mine, it can no more be so.

  If you it chase, that it in you can finde,

  10 In this exile, no manner of comfort:

  Nor Hue alone, nor where he is calde, resort,

  He may wander from his naturall kinde.

  So shall it be great hurt vnto vs twayne,

  And yours the losse, and mine the deadly payne.

  P224: S’una fede amorosa, un cor non finto

  98. Charging of his loue as vnpiteous and louing other

  If amourous fayth, or if an hart vnfained

  A swete languor, a great louely desire:

  If honest will, kindled in gentle fire:

  If long errour in a blinde mase chained,

  If in my visage ech thought distayned:

  Or if my sparkelyng voyce, lower, or hier,

  Which fear and shame, so wofully doth tyre:

  If pale colour, which loue alas hath stayned:

  If to haue another then my self more dere,

  10 If wailyng or sighyng continually,

  With sorowfull anger fedyng busily,

  If burnyng a farre of, and fresyng nere,

  Are cause that by loue my selfe I stroy:

  Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy.

  P269: Rotta è l’alta colonna e ’l verde lauro

  102. The louer lamentes the death of his loue

  The piller perisht is wherto I lent,

  The strongest stay of mine vnquiet minde:

  The like of it no man again can finde:

  From East to West still seking though he went.


  To mine vnhappe for happe away hath rent,

  Of all my ioy the very bark and rynde:

  And I (alas) by chance am thus assinde.

  Daily to moorne till death do it relent,

  But since that thus it is by desteny,

  10 What can I more but haue a wofull hart,

  My penne, in plaint, my voyce in carefull crye:

  My minde in wo, my body full of smart.

  And I my self, my selfe alwayes to hate,

  Till dreadfull death do ease my dolefull state.

  P37: Sí è debile il filo a cui s’attene

  104. Complaint of the absence of his loue

  So feble is the threde, that doth the burden stay,

  Of my poore life: in heauy plight, that falleth in decay:

  That, but it haue elswhere some ayde or some succoours:

  The running spindle of my fate anone shall end his course.

  For since thunhappy hower, that dyd me to depart,

  From my swete weale: one onely hope hath stayed my life, apart:

  Which doth perswade such wordes vnto my sored mind:

  Maintain thy self, O wofull wight, some better luck to finde.

  For though thou be depriued from thy desired sight:

  10 Who can thee tell, if thy returne be for thy more delight?

  Or who can tell, thy losse if thou mayst once recouer?

  Some pleasant hower thy wo may wrappe: & thee defend, & couer.

  Thus in this trust as yet it hath my life sustained:

  But now (alas) I see it faint: and I, by trust, am trayned.

  The tyme doth flete, and I se how the howers, do bend

  So fast: that I haue scant the space to mark my commying end.

  Westward the sonne from out the East scant shewes his light:

  When in the West he hides him strayt, within the dark of nyght.

  And comes as fast, where he began, his path awry.

  20 From East to West, from West to East so doth his iourney ly.

  The life so short, so fraile, that mortall men Hue here:

  So great a weight, so heauy charge the bodies, that we bere:

  That, when I think vpon the distaunce, and the space:

  That doth so farre deuide me from my dere desired face:

  I know not, how tattain the winges, that I require,

  To lift me vp: that I might flie, to folow my desyre.

  Thus of that hope, that doth my life somethyng sustayne,

  Alas: I feare, and partly fele: full litle doth remain.

  Eche place doth bring me griefe: where I do not behold

  30 Those huey eyes: which of my thoughts were wont the keys to hold

  Those thoughtes were pleasant swete: whilst I enjoyed that grace:

  My pleasure past, my present pain, when I might well embrace.

  And, for because my want should more my wo encrease:

  In watch, and slepe, both day, and night, my will doth neuer cease

  That thing to wish: wherof since I did lesse the sight:

  Was neuer thing that mought in ought my woful hart delight,

  Thunesy lyfe, I lead, doth teach me for to mete

  The floodes, the seas, the land, the hylles: that doth the entermete

  Twene me, and those shene lightes: that wonted for to clere

  40 My darked panges of cloudy thoughts, as bright as Pheb spere,

  It teacheth me, also, what was my pleasant state:

  The more to fele, by such record, how that my wealth doth bate.

  If such record (alas) prouoke thenflamed mynde:

  Which sprong that day, that I did leaue the best of me behynde:

  If loue forget himself, by length of absence, let:

  Who doth me guyde (O wofull wretch) vnto this bayted net?

  Where doth encrease my care: much better wer for me,

  As dumme, as stone, all thyng forgot, still absent for to be.

  Alas: the clere cristall, the bright transplendant glasse

  50 Doth not bewray the colours didde, which vnderneth it hase:

  As doth thaccumbred sprite the thoughtfull throwes discouer,

  Of feares delite, of feruent loue: that in our hartes we couer.

  Out by these eyes, it sheweth that euermore delight.

  In plaint, and teares to seke redresse: and eke both day and night.

  These kindes of pleasures most wherein men so reioyce,

  To me they do redubble still of stormy sighes the voyce.

  For, I am one of them, whom playnt doth well content:

  It sits me well: myne absent wealth me semes for to lament:

  And with my teares, tassay to charge myne eies twayn:

  60 Lyke as my hart aboue the brink is fraughted full of payn.

  And forbecause, therto, of those fair eyes to treate

  Do me prouoke: I wyll returne, my plaint thus to repeate.

  For, there is nothing els, that toucheth me so within:

  Where they rule all: and I alone nought but the case, or skin.

  Wherefore, I shall returne to them, as well, or spring:

  From whom descendes my mortall wo, aboue all other thing.

  So shall myne eyes in pain accompany my hart:

  That were the guides, that did it lead of loue to fele the smart.

  The crisped golde, that doth surmount Apollos pride:

  70 The liuely streames of pleasant starres that vnder it doth glyde:

  Wherein the beames of loue doe styll encrease theyr heate:

  Which yet so farre touch me so nere, in colde to make me sweate.

  The wise and pleasant talk, so rare, or els alone:

  That gaue to me the curteis gift, that erst had neuer none:

  Be farre from me, alas: and euery other thyng

  I might forbeare with better wyll: then this that dyd me bryng,

  With pleasant worde and chere, redresse of lingred pain:

  And wonted oft in kindled will to vertue me to trayn.

  Thus, am I forst to heare, and harken after newes.

  80 My comfort scant my large desire in doutfull trust renewes.

  And yet with more delite to mone my wofull case:

  I must complain those handes, those armes: they firmely do embrace

  Me from my self, and rule the sterne of my poore lyfe:

  The swete disdaines, the pleasant wrathes, and eke the louely strife:

  That wonted well to tune in temper iust, and mete,

  The rage: that oft dyd make me erre, by furour vndiscrete.

  All this is hydde me fro, with sharp, and ragged hylles:

  At others will, my long abode my depe dispaire fullfils.

  And if my hope sometime ryse vp, by some redresse:

  90 It stumbleth straite, for feble faint: my feare hath such excesse.

  Such is the sort of hope: the lesse for more desyre:

  And yet I trust ere that I dye to see that I require:

  The restyng place of loue: where vertue dwelles and growes

  There I desire, my wery life, somtime, may take repose.

  My song: thou shalt attain to finde that pleasant place:

  Where she doth lyue, by who I Hue: may chance, to haue this grace

  When she hath red, and sene the grief, wherin I serue:

  Betwene her brestes she shall thee put: there, shall she thee reserue

  Then, tell her, that I cumme: she shall me shortly see:

  100 And if for waighte the body fayle, the soule shall to her flee.

  P190: Una candida cerva sopra l’erba

  7. [From the Egerton MS]

  Who so list to hounte I know where is an hynde

  but as for me helas I may no more:

  the vayne travaill hath weried me so sore,

  I ame of theim that farthest cometh behinde;

  yet may I by no meanes my weried mynde

  drawe from the Diere: but as she fleeth afore

  faynting I folowe; I leve of therefore,

  sethens i
n a nett I seke to hold the wynde.

  Who list her hount I put him owte of dowbte,

  10 as well as I may spend his tyme in vain:

  and graven with Diamond [es] in letters plain

  There is written her faier neck rounde abowte:

  ‘Noli me tangere for Cesars I ame,

  And wylde for to hold though I seme tame’.

  P199: O bella man, che mi destringi’l core

  86. [From the Egerton MS]

  O goodely Hand

  wherein doeth stand

  my hert distraste in payne

  faire hand Alas

  in little spas

  my liff that doeth restrayne

  O fingers slight

  dep[ar]ted right

  so long so small so rownd

  10 goodely bygone

  and yet alone

  most cruell in my wound

  W[ith] Lilis whight

  and Roses bright

  doth stryve they colo[ur] faire

  nature did lend

  eche fingers ende

  a perle for to repayre

  Consent at last

  20 syns that thou hast

  my hert in thy demayne

  for s[er]uice trew

  on me to rew

  and reche me love againe

  And if not so

  then with more woo

  enforce thiself to strayne

  this simple hert

  that suffereth smart

  30 and rid it owte of payne.

  ANONYMOUS (from Tottel’s Miscellany)

  The interest of the following three anonymous poems lies less in what they achieve than in what they try to do with Petrarch. Tottel 185 is the first attempt in English to deal with the complexities of P23, the first canzone of the Canzoniere, which is a tissue of Ovidian metamorphoses in which the poet changes in rapid succession into a laurel (Daphne), a swan (Cygnus), a rock (Battus), a fountain (Byblis), flint (Echo) and a deer (Actaeon), indicating the psychological effects of Petrarch’s being smitten by love. The translator avoids any use of the Ovidian metaphors but rationalizes all of them – in octosyllabic quatrains – into this bouncy jingle on the progress of love, an intellectual triumph but a poetic failure; he is all for sentence and nothing for solas. Tottel 276 and 277 (P1 and P3) similarly do not attempt to deal with the form of Petrarch’s sonnets but with the substance of those poems in septenary couplets. These poets view Petrarch as meaning and not as form, a cautionary tale for all later translators.