III.

TO HER FRIEND.

MAY: MDCCC.

AND wilt Thou leave me, ANNA, and go hence? Must we, when dearest to each other, part? When most thy Friend feels that she wants defence Against the anguish of a wounded Ileart?

2.

Remember, ANNA, if she brought relief
When sharp Affliction occupied thy breast;
How with some moments of suspended Grief
She strove to lengthen out thy short-liv'd rest.
To share thy sorrows, her own heart opprest,-
Or chear thee with the converse You approv'd;
Or with those Authors, priz'd among the best,
Whose sympathetic strain she knew was lov'd.
How in progressive Friendship has she grown,
Till thy unhappiness became her own.

S. W. F.

IV.

APPREHENSION.

LIKE that frail Plant whose trembling Fibres tell
Approaching pressure, and whose folded leaves
Or threaten'd or inflicted harm bereaves
Of its quick vital force as by a Spell,

My Mind to anticipate but knows too well:
In future days still future ills conceives:
And dark conjectures and such fears believes
As against all its faculties rebel.

2.

Thus Apprehension o'er my views presides:
Thwarting the blandishments fond Hope bestows,
Untuning every prelude to repose;

And all the anguish of suspense derides:
Whispering, that every Hope and every Pain,
All which Life threats or promises, is vain.

S. W. F.

1801.

V.

SONETTO*

RITROVATO

NEL SEPOLCRO DI MADONNA LAURA:

IN AVIGNONE: MDXXXIII.

QUI reposan quei caste & felice Ossa

Di quell' Alma gentile e sola in terra. Aspro e dur Sasso, hor ben teco hai soterra E'l vero Honor & Fama & Beltà scossa! Morte ha del verde LAURO svelta e mossa

Fresca radice; e'l premio di mia guerra Di quatro lustri e più, s'ancor non erra Mio pensier tristo; e'l chiude en poca fossa.

2.

Felice Pianta in borgo d'Avignone

Nacque et mori: & quì con ella giace

La penna, e'l stil, l'inchiostro, e la Ragione. O delicate Membri, o Viva Face,

Ch' ancor me cuoggi et struggi!' in ginocchione

Ciascun preghi, "il Signor t' accetti in Pace!"

* From the elegant Edition at Lyons by Rouïlle. 1558.

VI.

DI PETRARCA.

(CCLXXI.)

QUEL Rossigniuol che si söave piagne
Forse suoi Figli ò sua cara Consorte,
Di dolcezza empie il Cielo e le Campagne
Con tante Note si pietose e scorte;
E tutta Notte par che m' accompagne

E mi rammente la mia dura Sorte
Ch' altri che me non ho di cui mi lagne

Che 'n Dee non credev' io regnasse Morte.

2.

O che lieve è ingannar chi s'assecura!

Que duo bei lume, assai piu che'l Sol chiari,

Chi pensò mai veder far terra oscura?

Or conosc' io che mia fera ventura

Vuol che vivendo e lagrimando impari Come nulla qua giù diletta e dura.

VII.

TRANSLATION.

SWEETLY as the lone Nightingale laments
His offspring, haply, or his Mate most dear,
And as the wonted umbrage he frequents,

With sweetness Vale and Skies are fill'd:-the ear Lingers on the lov'd Notes! me it

presents

That he through Night accompanies my tear.

While my heart nought but its fond dreams repents, Thinking on object so divine Death's spear

2.

Could never fall.-How easy to deceive

The Trust of Love and Hope!-Those star-like eyes Veil'd in the Dust to see could I believe?

But now I feel that I am doom'd to grieve;

And to perpetual Tears:—and mid my sighs

Reflect, what most delights Fate for least time will

leave.

26 Jul. 1803. C. L.