Sonnet LXXIII

Sonnet LXXIII by Francesco Petrarch

SONNET LXXIII.

Fu forse un tempo dolce cosa amore.

HE COMPLAINS OF HIS SUFFERINGS, WHICH ADMIT OF NO RELIEF.

Love, haply, was erewhile a sweet relief;I scarce know when; but now it bitter growsBeyond all else. Who learns from life well knows,As I have learnt to know from heavy grief;[Pg 300]She, of our age, who was its honour chief,Who now in heaven with brighter lustre glows,Has robb'd my being of the sole reposeIt knew in life, though that was rare and brief.Pitiless Death my every good has ta'en!Not the great bliss of her fair spirit freedCan aught console the adverse life I lead.I wept and sang; who now can wake no strain,But day and night the pent griefs of my soulFrom eyes and tongue in tears and verses roll.
Macgregor.

Form: Italian Sonnet Comments

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