Behind me an oriole chirrups in triumph amid the birch-trees which wave around the house of the haunted window; before me a kingfisher pauses and waits, and a darting9 blackbird shows the scarlet10 on his wings. Sloops11 and schooners12 constantly come and go, careening in the wind, their white sails taking, if remote enough, a vague blue mantle13 from the delicate air. Sail-boats glide14 in the distance,—each a mere15 white wing of canvas,—or coming nearer, and glancing suddenly into the cove, are put as suddenly on the other tack16, and almost in an instant seem far away. There is to-day such a live sparkle on the water, such a luminous17 freshness on the grass, that it seems, as is so often the case in early June, as if all history were a dream, and the whole earth were but the creation of a summer's day.
If Petrarch still knows and feels the consummate18 beauty of these earthly things, it may seem to him some repayment19 for the sorrows of a life-time that one reader, after all this lapse20 of years, should choose his sonnets22 to match this grass, these blossoms, and the soft lapse of these blue waves. Yet any longer or more continuous poem would be out of place to-day. I fancy that this narrow cove prescribes the proper limits of a sonnet21; and when I count the lines of ripple within yonder projecting wall, there proves to be room for just fourteen. Nature meets our whims23 with such little fitnesses. The words which build these delicate structures of Petrarch's are as soft and fine and close-textured as the sands upon this tiny beach, and their monotone, if such it be, is the monotone of the neighboring ocean. Is it not possible, by bringing such a book into the open air, to separate it from the grimness of commentators24, and bring it back to life and light and Italy?
The beautiful earth is the same as when this poetry and passion were new; there is the same sunlight, the same blue water and green grass; yonder pleasure-boat might bear, for aught we know, the friends and lovers of five centuries ago; Petrarch and Laura might be there, with Boccaccio and Fiammetta as comrades, and with Chaucer as their stranger guest. It bears, at any rate, if I know its voyagers, eyes as lustrous25, voices as sweet. With the world thus young, beauty eternal, fancy free, why should these delicious Italian pages exist but to be tortured into grammatical examples? Is there no reward to be imagined for a delightful26 book that can match Browning's fantastic burial of a tedious one? When it has sufficiently27 basked29 in sunshine, and been cooled in pure salt air, when it has bathed in heaped clover, and been scented30, page by page, with melilot, cannot its beauty once more blossom, and its buried loves revive?
Emboldened31 by such influences, at least let me translate a sonnet, and see if anything is left after the sweet Italian syllables32 are gone. Before this continent was discovered, before English literature existed, when Chaucer was a child, these words were written. Yet they are to-day as fresh and perfect as these laburnum-blossoms that droop33 above my head. And as the variable and uncertain air comes freighted with clover-scent from yonder field, so floats through these long centuries a breath of fragrance34, the memory of Laura.
SONNET 129.
"Lieti fiori e felici."
O trees, with earliest green of spring-time hours,
And spring-time's pale and tender violets!
O pleasant country-side! O purest stream,
That mirrorest her sweet face, her eyes so clear,
And of their living light can catch the beam!
I envy you her haunts so close and dear.
There is no rock so senseless but I deem
It burns with passion that to mine is near.
Goethe compared translators to carriers, who convey good wine to market, though it gets unaccountably watered by the way. The more one praises a poem, the more absurd becomes one's position, perhaps, in trying to translate it. If it is so admirable—is the natural inquiry,—why not let it alone? It is a doubtful blessing42 to the human race, that the instinct of translation still prevails, stronger than reason; and after one has once yielded to it, then each untranslated favorite is like the trees round a backwoodsman's clearing, each of which stands, a silent defiance43, until he has cut it down. Let us try the axe44 again. This is to Laura singing.
SONNET 134.
"Quando Amor i begli occhi a terra inchina."
When Love doth those sweet eyes to earth incline,
And weaves those wandering notes into a sigh
Soft as his touch, and leads a minstrelsy
Clear-voiced and pure, angelic and divine,
And to my thoughts brings transformation46 high,
So that I say, "My time has come to die,
If fate so blest a death for me design."
But to my soul thus steeped in joy the sound
Brings such a wish to keep that present heaven,
It holds my spirit back to earth as well.
And thus I live: and thus is loosed and wound
The thread of life which unto me was given
By this sole Siren who with us doth dwell.
As I look across the bay, there is seen resting over all the hills, and even upon every distant sail, an enchanted47 veil of palest blue, that seems woven out of the very souls of happy days,—a bridal veil, with which the sunshine weds48 this soft landscape in summer. Such and so indescribable is the atmospheric49 film that hangs over these poems of Petrarch's; there is a delicate haze50 about the words, that vanishes when you touch them, and reappears as you recede51. How it clings, for instance, around this sonnet!
SONNET 191.
"Aura che quelle chiome."
Sweet air, that circlest round those radiant tresses,
Deliciously, and scatterest that fine gold,
Then twinest it again, my heart's dear jesses,
Thou lingerest on those eyes, whose beauty presses
Stings in my heart that all its life exhaust,
Till I go wandering round my treasure lost,
Like some scared creature whom the night distresses53.
I seem to find her now, and now perceive
How far away she is; now rise, now fall;
Now what I wish, now what is true, believe.
O happy air! since joys enrich thee all,
Rest thee; and thou, O stream too bright to grieve!
Why can I not float with thee at thy call?
The airiest and most fugitive54 among Petrarch's love-poems, so far as I know,—showing least of that air of earnestness which he has contrived55 to impart to almost all,—is this little ode or madrigal56. It is interesting to see, from this, that he could be almost conventional and courtly in moments when he held Laura farthest aloof57; and when it is compared with the depths of solemn emotion in his later sonnets, it seems like the soft glistening58 of young birch-leaves against a background of pines.
CANZONE XXIII.
"Nova angeletta sovra l' ale accorta."
A new-born angel, with her wings extended,
Came floating from the skies to this fair shore,
Where, fate-controlled, I wandered with my sorrows.
She saw me there, alone and unbefriended,
She wove a silken net, and threw it o'er
The turf, whose greenness all the pathway borrows,
Then was I captured; nor could fears arise,
Turn from these light compliments to the pure and reverential tenderness of a sonnet like this:—
SONNET 223.
"Qual donna attende a gloriosa fama."
Of chastity, of strength, of courtesy?
Gaze in the eyes of that sweet enemy
Whom all the world doth as my lady name!
How honor grows, and pure devotion's flame,
There thou mayst learn, and what the path may be
To that high heaven which doth her spirit claim;
There learn soft speech, beyond all poet's skill,
And softer silence, and those holy ways
But the infinite beauty that all eyes doth fill,
This none can copy! since its lovely rays
Are given by God's pure grace, and not by art.
The following, on the other hand, seems to me one of the Shakespearian sonnets; the successive phrases set sail, one by one, like a yacht squadron; each spreads its graceful wings and glides63 away. It is hard to handle this white canvas without soiling. Macgregor, in the only version of this sonnet which I have seen, abandons all attempt at rhyme; but to follow the strict order of the original in this respect is a part of the pleasant problem which one cannot bear to forego. And there seems a kind of deity64 who presides over this union of languages, and who sometimes silently lays the words in order, after all one's own poor attempts have failed.
SONNET 128.
"O passi sparsi; o pensier vaghi e pronti"
O wandering steps! O vague and busy dreams!
O changeless memory! O fierce desire!
O passion strong! heart weak with its own fire;
O eyes of mine! not eyes, but living streams;
The sole reward that glory's deeds require;
O beauteous face! where Love has treasured well
At his least will; nor can it find relief.
O souls of love and passion! if ye dwell
Yet on this earth, and ye, great Shades of Love!
Linger, and see my passion and my grief.
Yonder flies a kingfisher, and pauses, fluttering like a butterfly in the air, then dives toward a fish, and, failing, perches70 on the projecting wall. Doves from neighboring dove-cotes alight on the parapet of the fort, fearless of the quiet cattle who find there a breezy pasture. These doves, in taking flight, do not rise from the ground at once, but, edging themselves closer to the brink71, with a caution almost ludicrous in such airy things, trust themselves upon the breeze with a shy little hop72, and at the next moment are securely on the wing.
How the abundant sunlight inundates73 everything! The great clumps74 of grass and clover are imbedded in it to the roots; it flows in among their stalks, like water; the lilac-bushes bask28 in it eagerly; the topmost leaves of the birches are burnished75. A vessel76 sails by with plash and roar, and all the white spray along her side is sparkling with sunlight. Yet there is sorrow in the world, and it reached Petrarch even before Laura died,—when it reached her. This exquisite77 sonnet shows it:—
SONNET 123.
"I' vidi in terra angelici costumi."
And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known,
Whose memory lends nor joy nor grief alone,
I saw how tears had left their weary traces
Within those eyes that once like sunbeams shone,
Whose spell might once have taught the hills their places.
Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth,
Made ill their mourning strains more high and dear
Than ever wove sweet sounds for mortal ear;
And heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth
Such passionate83 sweetness filled the atmosphere.
These sonnets are in Petrarch's earlier manner; but the death of Laura brought a change. Look at yonder schooner coming down the bay, straight toward us; she is hauled close to the wind, her jib is white in the sunlight, her larger sails are touched with the same snowy lustre84, and all the swelling85 canvas is rounded into such lines of beauty as scarcely anything else in the world—hardly even the perfect outlines of the human form—can give. Now she comes up into the wind, and goes about with a strong flapping of the sails, smiting86 on the ear at a half-mile's distance; then she glides off on the other tack, showing the shadowed side of her sails, until she reaches the distant zone of haze. So change the sonnets after Laura's death, growing shadowy as they recede, until the very last seems to merge4 itself in the blue distance.
SONNET 251.
"Gli occhi di ch' io parlai."
The arms, hands, feet, the beauty that erewhile
And in a separate world of dreams enclose,
The hair's bright tresses, full of golden glows,
And the soft lightning of the angelic smile
Are now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows.
And yet I live! Myself I grieve and scorn,
Left dark without the light I loved in vain,
Adrift in tempest on a bark forlorn;
Dry is the channel of my thoughts outworn,
"And yet I live!" What a pause is implied before these words! the drawing of a long breath, immeasurably long; like that vast interval92 of heart-beats that precedes Shakespeare's "Since Cleopatra died." I can think of no other passage in literature that has in it the same wide spaces of emotion.
The following sonnet seems to me the most stately and concentrated in the whole volume. It is the sublimity93 of a despair not to be relieved by utterance94.
SONNET 253.
"Soleasi nel mio cor."
She ruled in beauty o'er this heart of mine,
'T is I am mortal proved, and she divine.
And love whose light no more on earth finds room
Yet none their sorrows can in words enshrine;
They weep within my heart; and ears are deaf
Save mine alone, and I am crushed with care,
Assuredly but dust and shade we are,
Assuredly desire is blind and brief,
Assuredly its hope but ends in death.
In a later strain he rises to that dream which is more than earth's realities.
SONNET 261.
"Levommi il mio pensiero."
Dreams bore my fancy to that region where
She dwells whom here I seek, but cannot see.
'Mid those who in the loftiest heaven be
She touched my hand, she said, "Within this sphere,
If hope deceive not, thou shalt dwell with me:
I filled thy life with war's wild agony;
Mine own day closed ere evening could appear.
My bliss no human brain can understand;
I wait for thee alone, and that fair veil
Of beauty thou dost love shall wear again."
Why was she silent then, why dropped my hand
Ere those delicious tones could quite avail
To bid my mortal soul in heaven remain?
It vindicates103 the emphatic104 reality and pesonality of Petrarch's love, after all, that when from these heights of vision he surveys and resurveys his life's long dream, it becomes to him more and more definite, as well as more poetic105, and is farther and farther from a merely vague sentimentalism. In his later sonnets, Laura grows more distinctly individual to us; her traits show themselves as more characteristic, her temperament106 more intelligible107, her precise influence upon Petrarch clearer. What delicate accuracy of delineation108 is seen, for instance, in this sonnet!
SONNET 314.
A soft-toned voice, whose accents undefiled
Held sweet restraints, all duty honoring;
Divinest eyes to make a lover's bliss,
Lest its wild wanderings should the pathway miss,
This sweet completeness of thy life it is
That saved my soul; no other peace I find.
In the following sonnet visions multiply upon visions. Would that one could transfer into English the delicious way in which the sweet Italian rhymes recur118 and surround and seem to embrace each other, and are woven and unwoven and interwoven, like the heavenly hosts that gathered around Laura.
SONNET 302.
"Gli angeli eletti."
The holy angels and the spirits blest,
"What light is here, in what new beauty drest?"
They said among themselves; "for none has seen
Within this age come wandering such a queen
Ranks with the purest in that upper sphere,
Yet ever and anon looks back on this,
To watch for me, as if for me she stayed.
So strive, my thoughts, lest that high path I miss.
I hear her call, and must not be delayed.
These odes and sonnets are all but parts of one symphony, leading us through a passion strengthened by years and only purified by death, until at last the graceful lay becomes an anthem124 and a Nunc dimittis. In the closing sonnets Petrarch withdraws from the world, and they seem like voices from a cloister125, growing more and more solemn till the door is closed. This is one of the last:—
SONNET 309.
"Dicemi spesso il mio fidato speglio."
Oft by my faithful mirror I am told,
And by my mind outworn and altered brow,
"Deceive thyself no more, for thou art old!"
Who strives with Nature's laws is over-bold,
And Time to his commandments bids us bow.
In life's long dream no more my sense to fold.
And while I think, our swift existence flies,
And none can live again earth's brief career,
Then in my deepest heart the voice replies
Of one who now has left this mortal sphere,
But walked alone through earthly destinies,
And of all women is to fame most dear.
How true is this concluding line! Who can wonder that women prize beauty, and are intoxicated129 by their own fascinations130, when these fragile gifts are yet strong enough to outlast131 all the memories of statesmanship and war? Next to the immortality132 of genius is that which genius may confer upon the object of its love. Laura, while she lived, was simply one of a hundred or a thousand beautiful and gracious Italian women; she had her loves and aversions, joys and griefs; she cared dutifully for her household, and embroidered133 the veil which Petrarch loved; her memory appeared as fleeting134 and unsubstantial as that woven tissue. After five centuries we find that no armor of that iron age was so enduring. The kings whom she honored, the popes whom she revered135 are dust, and their memory is dust, but literature is still fragrant136 with her name. An impression which has endured so long is ineffaceable; it is an earthly immortality.
"Time is the chariot of all ages to carry men away, and beauty cannot bribe137 this charioteer." Thus wrote Petrarch in his Latin essays; but his love had wealth that proved resistless and for Laura the chariot stayed.
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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schooner
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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sloops
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schooners
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mantle
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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mere
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tack
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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consummate
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repayment
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lapse
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sonnet
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sonnets
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WHIMS
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commentators
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lustrous
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delightful
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sufficiently
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bask
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basked
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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emboldened
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syllables
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droop
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fragrance
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joyous
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amulets
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bowers
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grove
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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gild
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| vt.给…镀金，把…漆成金色，使呈金色 | |
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outskirts
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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defiance
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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havoc
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transformation
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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weds
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atmospheric
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haze
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recede
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| vi.退(去)，渐渐远去；向后倾斜，缩进 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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distresses
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| n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 )；痛苦；贫困；危险 | |
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fugitive
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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madrigal
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| n.牧歌；（流行于16和17世纪无乐器伴奏的）合唱歌曲 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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59
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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61
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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62
untold
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| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
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63
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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64
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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65
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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66
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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67
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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68
redeems
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| 补偿( redeem的第三人称单数 )； 实践； 解救； 使…免受责难 | |
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69
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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70
perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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71
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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72
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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73
inundates
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| v.淹没( inundate的第三人称单数 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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74
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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75
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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76
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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77
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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78
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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79
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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80
effaces
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| v.擦掉( efface的第三人称单数 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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81
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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82
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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83
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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84
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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85
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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86
smiting
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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87
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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88
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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89
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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90
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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91
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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92
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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93
sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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94
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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95
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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96
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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97
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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98
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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99
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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100
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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101
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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102
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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103
vindicates
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| n.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的名词复数 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的第三人称单数 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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104
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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105
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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106
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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107
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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108
delineation
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| n.记述；描写 | |
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109
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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110
repulses
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| v.击退( repulse的第三人称单数 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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111
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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112
rebukes
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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113
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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114
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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115
cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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116
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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117
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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118
recur
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| vi.复发，重现，再发生 | |
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119
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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120
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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121
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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122
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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123
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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124
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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125
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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126
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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128
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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129
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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130
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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131
outlast
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| v.较…耐久 | |
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132
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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133
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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134
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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135
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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137
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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