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CANZONE VIII. Vergine bella che di sol vestita. TO THE VIRGIN MARY. Beautiful Virgin! clothed with the sun,Crown'd with the stars, who so the Eternal SunWell pleasedst that in thine his light he hid;Love pricks me on to utter speech of thee,And—feeble to commence without thy aid—Of Him who on thy bosom rests in love.Her I invoke who gracious still repliesTo all who ask in faith,Virgin! if ever yetThe misery of man and mortal thingsTo mercy moved thee, to my prayer incline;Help me in this my strife,Though I am but of dust, and thou heaven's radiant Queen! Wise Virgin! of that lovely number oneOf Virgins blest and wise,Even the first and with the brightest lamp:O solid buckler of afflicted hearts!'Neath which against the blows of Fate and Death,Not mere deliverance but great victory is;Relief from the blind ardour which consumesVain mortals here below!Virgin! those lustrous eyes,Which tearfully beheld the cruel printsIn the fair limbs of thy beloved Son,Ah! turn on my sad doubt,Who friendless, helpless thus, for counsel come to thee! [Pg 319]O Virgin! pure and perfect in each part,Maiden or Mother, from thy honour'd birth,This life to lighten and the next adorn;O bright and lofty gate of open'd heaven!By thee, thy Son and His, the Almighty Sire,In our worst need to save us came below:And, from amid all other earthly seats,Thou only wert elect,Virgin supremely blest!The tears of Eve who turnedst into joy;Make me, thou canst, yet worthy of his grace,O happy without end,Who art in highest heaven a saint immortal shrined. O holy Virgin! full of every good,Who, in humility most deep and true,To heaven art mounted, thence my prayers to hear,That fountain thou of pity didst produce,That sun of justice light, which calms and clearsOur age, else clogg'd with errors dark and foul.Three sweet and precious names in thee combine,Of mother, daughter, wife,Virgin! with glory crown'd,Queen of that King who has unloosed our bonds,And free and happy made the world again,By whose most sacred wounds,I pray my heart to fix where true joys only are! Virgin! of all unparallel'd, alone,Who with thy beauties hast enamour'd Heaven,Whose like has never been, nor e'er shall be;For holy thoughts with chaste and pious actsTo the true God a sacred living shrineIn thy fecund virginity have made:By thee, dear Mary, yet my life may beHappy, if to thy prayers,O Virgin meek and mild!Where sin abounded grace shall more abound!With bended knee and broken heart I prayThat thou my guide wouldst be,And to such prosperous end direct my faltering way. [Pg 320]Bright Virgin! and immutable as bright,O'er life's tempestuous ocean the sure starEach trusting mariner that truly guides,Look down, and see amid this dreadful stormHow I am tost at random and alone,And how already my last shriek is near,Yet still in thee, sinful although and vile,My soul keeps all her trust;Virgin! I thee imploreLet not thy foe have triumph in my fall;Remember that our sin made God himself,To free us from its chain,Within thy virgin womb our image on Him take! Virgin! what tears already have I shed,Cherish'd what dreams and breathed what prayers in vainBut for my own worse penance and sure loss;Since first on Arno's shore I saw the lightTill now, whate'er I sought, wherever turn'd,My life has pass'd in torment and in tears,For mortal loveliness in air, act, speech,Has seized and soil'd my soul:O Virgin! pure and good,Delay not till I reach my life's last year;Swifter than shaft and shuttle are, my days'Mid misery and sinHave vanish'd all, and now Death only is behind! Virgin! She now is dust, who, living, heldMy heart in grief, and plunged it since in gloom;She knew not of my many ills this one,And had she known, what since befell me stillHad been the same, for every other wishWas death to me and ill renown for her;But, Queen of Heaven, our Goddess—if to theeSuch homage be not sin—Virgin! of matchless mind,Thou knowest now the whole; and that, which elseNo other can, is nought to thy great power:Deign then my grief to end,Thus honour shall be thine, and safe my peace at last! [Pg 321]Virgin! in whom I fix my every hope,Who canst and will'st assist me in great need,Forsake me not in this my worst extreme,Regard not me but Him who made me thus;Let his high image stamp'd on my poor worthTowards one so low and lost thy pity move:Medusa spells have made me as a rockDistilling a vain flood;Virgin! my harass'd heartWith pure and pious tears do thou fulfil,That its last sigh at least may be devout,And free from earthly taint,As was my earliest vow ere madness fill'd my veins! Virgin! benevolent, and foe of pride,Ah! let the love of our one Author win,Some mercy for a contrite humble heart:For, if her poor frail mortal dust I lovedWith loyalty so wonderful and long,Much more my faith and gratitude for thee.From this my present sad and sunken stateIf by thy help I rise,Virgin! to thy dear nameI consecrate and cleanse my thoughts, speech, pen,My mind, and heart with all its tears and sighs;Point then that better path,And with complacence view my changed desires at last. The day must come, nor distant far its date,Time flies so swift and sure,O peerless and alone!When death my heart, now conscience struck, shall seize:Commend me, Virgin! then to thy dear Son,True God and Very Man,That my last sigh in peace may, in his arms, be breathed! Macgregor. gutenberg.org/files/17650/17650-h/images/16large.jpg">" alt="PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA." src="Petrarch_files/16.jpg">PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA.
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