When Simon at my wish the proud design Conceived, which in his hand the pencil placed, Had he, while loveliness his picture graced, But added speech and mind to charms divine; What sighs he then had spared this breast of mine: That bliss had given to higher bliss distaste: For, when such meekness in her look was traced, 'Twould seem she soon to kindness might incline. But, urging converse with the portray'd fair, Methinks she deigns attention to my prayer, Though wanting to reply the power of voice. What praise thyself, Pygmalion, hast thou gain'd; Forming that image, whence thou hast obtain'd A thousand times what, once obtain'd, would me rejoice.
_Se al principio risponde il fine e 'l mezzo._
IF HIS PASSION STILL INCREASE, HE MUST SOON DIE.
If, of this fourteenth year wherein I sigh, The end and middle with its opening vie, Nor air nor shade can give me now release, I feel mine ardent passion so increase: For Love, with whom my thought no medium knows, Beneath whose yoke I never find repose, So rules me through these eyes, on mine own ill Too often turn'd, but half remains to kill. Thus, day by day, I feel me sink apace, And yet so secretly none else may trace, Save she whose glances my fond bosom tear. Scarcely till now this load of life I bear Nor know how long with me will be her stay, For death draws near, and hastens life away.
HE PRAYS GOD TO GUIDE HIS FRAIL BARK TO A SAFE PORT.
Who is resolved to venture his vain life On the deceitful wave and 'mid the rocks, Alone, unfearing death, in little bark, Can never be far distant from his end: Therefore betimes he should return to port While to the helm yet answers his true sail.
The gentle breezes to which helm and sail I trusted, entering on this amorous life, And hoping soon to make some better port, Have led me since amid a thousand rocks, And the sure causes of my mournful end Are not alone without, but in my bark.
Long cabin'd and confined in this blind bark, I wander'd, looking never at the sail, Which, prematurely, bore me to my end; Till He was pleased who brought me into life So far to call me back from those sharp rocks, That, distantly, at last was seen my port.
As lights at midnight seen in any port, Sometimes from the main sea by passing bark, Save when their ray is lost 'mid storms or rocks; So I too from above the swollen sail Saw the sure colours of that other life, And could not help but sigh to reach my end.