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Front Page Titles (by Subject) Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte - Some Love Songs
Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte - Francesco Petrarch, Some Love Songs [1915]Edition used:Some Love Songs of Petrarch, translated and annotated with a Biographical Introduction by William Dudley Foulke (Oxford University Press, 1915).
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- Ode to Petrarch
- Introduction and Biography
- Love Songs of Petrarch
- Era Il Giorno Ch’al Sol Si Scoloraro
- Ballad I: Lassare Il Velo O Per Sole O Per Ombra
- Orso, E’ Non Furon Mai Fiumi Nè Stagni
- Mille Fiate, O Dolce Mia Guerrera
- Non Al Suo Amante Più Dïana Piacque
- Nova Angeletta Sovra L’ale Accorta
- Or Vedi, Amor, Che Giovenetta Donna
- Il Mio Adversario, In Cui Veder Solete
- Due Rose Fresche E Còlte In Paradiso
- In Mezzo Di Duo Amanti, Onesta, Altera
- Quando Fra L’altre Donne Ad Ora Ad Ora
- Sestine I: A Qualunque Animale Alberga In Terra
- E Perchè Un Poco Nel Parlar Mi Sfogo
- Già Fiammeggiava L’amorosa Stella
- Gentil Mia Donna, I’ Veggio
- La Donna Che ’l Mio Cor Nel Viso Porta
- L’aspetto Sacro De La Terra Vostra
- Padre Del Ciel; Dopo I Perduti Giorni
- La Bella Donna Che Cotanto Amavi
- Poi Che Voi Et Io Più Volte Abbiam Provato
- Io Son Sì Stanco Sotto Il Fascio Antico
- Passa La Nave Mia Colma D’oblio
- Per Ch’ Al Viso D’amor Portava Insegna
- Fuggendo La Pregionc Ove Amor M’ebbe
- Quando Giunse a Simon L’alto Concetto
- Volgendo Gli Occhi Al Mio Novo Colore
- Quel Vago Impallidir, Che ’l Dolce Riso
- Per Mezz’ I Boschi Inospiti E Selvaggi
- Di Pensier In Pensier, Di Monte In Monte
- Ovunque Gli Occhi Volgo
- Chiare, Fresche E Dolci Acque
- Pommi Ove ’l Sole Occide I Fiori E L’erba
- I’ Vidi In Terra Angelici Costumi
- In Qual Parte Del Ciel, In Quale Idea
- Amor Et Io Sì Pien’ Di Meraviglia
- Stiamo, Amor, a Veder La Gloria Nostra
- In Nobil Sangue Vita Umile E Queta
- Quanto Più M’avicino Al Giorno Extremo
- Pace Non Trovo, E Non Ho Da Far Guerra
- Erano I Capei D’oro a L’aura Sparsi
- Beato In Sogno, E Di Languir Contento
- Qual Paura Ho Quando Mi Torna a Mente
- Solea Lontana In Sonno Consolarme
- Oimè Il Bel Viso, Oimè Il Soave Sguardo
- Quanta Invidia Io Ti Porto, Avara Terra
- Occhi Miei, Oscurato è ’l Nostro Sole
- Rotta è L’alta Colonna E ’l Verde Lauro
- Zefiro Torna, E ’l Bel Tempo Rimena
- Nè Per Sereno Ciel Ir Vaghe Stelle
- Sento L’aura Mia Antica, E I Dolci Colli
- Tutta La Mia Fiorita E Verde Etade
- Amor, Se Vuo’ Ch’ I’ Torni Al Giogo Antico
- S’ Io Avesse Pensato Che Sì Care
- Solea Da La Fontana Di Mia Vita
- Il Dì Che Costei Nacque, Eran Le Stelle
- Quel Rosigniuol, Che Sì Soave Piagne
- Vago Augelletto Che Cantando Vai
- Ite, Rime Dolenti, Al Duro Sasso
- Ripensando a Quel Ch’ Oggi Il Cielo Onora
- Dolce Mio Caro E Precïoso Pegno
- Deh Qual Pietà, Qual Angel Fu Sì Presto
- Levommi Il Mio Penser In Parte Ov’ Era
- Li Angeli Eletti, E L’anime Beate
- I’ Vo Piangendo I Miei Passati Tempi
- Vergine Bella, Che Di Sol Vestita
- Voi Ch’ Ascoltate In Rime Sparse Il Suono
- Appendix I Laura
- Appendix Ii ‘epistle to Posterity’ 1
- Appendix Iii Catalogue of Petrarch’s Works
- Index of First Lines
Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte
-
- From fancy unto fancy, peak to peak,
- Love guideth me. Frequented ways I fly.
- The paths of men are irksome to my peace;
- But if on lonely shore a fount or creek
- Or shadowy vale between the hills doth lie,
- There doth the tumult of my spirit cease;
- And then, as Love may please
- I laugh, I tremble, I am bold, I weep;
- My face reflects my soul where’er I go,
- And bright or dark doth grow,
- Yet but a little time its mood doth keep,
- Till practised eyes do mark me and declare,
- ‘He loves, yet knows not if his fate be fair.’
-
- Where hill or lofty pine doth cast its shade
- I halt, and on the nearest rock I see
- Limned by my fancy, her fair countenance!
- When I revive, behold! my breast is made
- All soft with tears; I cry: ‘Ah, wretched me,
- Where art thou? Why awaken from thy trance?’
- For while that tender glance
- Doth hold my heart in sweet imprisonment,
- Forgetful of itself, gazing on her,
- I do feel love so near
- That with the dream alone I am content;
- So fair doth she appear on every side,
- I ask no more if these sweet visions bide.
-
- Full oft her living image have I seen
- In the clear waters or upon the grass
- Or in the trunk of some widespreading tree
- Or on a floating cloud. Her face hath been
- So fair that Helen’s it did far surpass,
- As the bright sun constrains the stars to flee.
- Though wild the spot may be,
- On lonely shore—in forest sere and brown—
- All the more fair my thoughts her form portray.
- And when truth drives away
- The sweet delusion, then I sit me down,
- Dead stone on living rock, cold with my fears,
- And think, and weep, and write my song in tears.
-
- Within my heart a keen desire doth rise
- To scale the steepest, loftiest peak of all
- Where shade of other mountain cannot go.
- There I begin to measure with mine eyes
- How great my loss, and into weeping fall,
- My heart all filled with a thick mist of woe,
- Whene’er I look and know
- What spaces part me from that radiant face
- That still is near, even when far away!
- Low to myself I say,
- ‘Poor soul, why weep? Perchance in that far place
- Thine absence grieves her and she sighs for thee.’
- And with that thought my soul again is free.
- O song, beyond those Alps,
- Where heaven is more serene and skies more gay,
- Thou’lt see me soon near a swift-running stream
- Where the soft air doth teem
- With odours from a laurel grove astray.
- My heart and she who took it both are there,
- Only my empty image bideth here.
- cxxix
1345. Cochin, p. 92.
But his most vivid pictures of Laura are at Vaucluse in the narrow valley between steep mountains where the Sorgue rushes forth from a cavern and flows swiftly down the valley. This stream was then bordered with groves of oak and beech and laurel, and its banks were carpeted with sod on which wild flowers grew luxuriantly. It would seem that Petrarch and Laura had met in this valley on one or more occasions, and the memory of her presence there gave rise to the most exquisite poetry in the whole Canzoniere. His thirteenth ode, Se ’l pensier che mi strugge, preliminary to the one which is deservedly reckoned his masterpiece, thus sets forth in its sixth stanza the reasons why each spot is so precious to him:
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