Note 150 — Chapter I · THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE
George Herbert Ely translation
Distinguished as she necessarily was, the lady who inspired such accents had herself nothing so tragic or so sublime. She wrote:
Amor, tu sai, che mai non torsi il piede Dal carcer tuo soave, nè disciolsi Dal dolce giogo il collo, nè ti tolsi Quanto dal primo dì l’alma ti diede. Tempo non cangiò mai l’antica fede; Il nodo è stretto anchor, com’io l’avvolsi; Nè per il frutto amar, ch’ognihor ne colsi, L’alta cagion men cara al cor mi riede. Visto hai quanto in un petto fido, ardente Può oprar quel caro tuo più acuto dardo, Contro del cui poter Morte non valse, Fa homai da te, che’l nodo si rallente, Che a me di libertà già mai nol calse, Anzi di ricovrarla hor mi par tardo.
[Thou knowest, Love, I never sought to flee From thy sweet prison, nor impatient threw Thy dear yoke from my neck; never withdrew What, that first day, my soul bestowed on thee. Time hath not changed love’s ancient surety; The knot is still as firm; and though there grew Moment by moment fruit bitter as rue, Yet the fair tree remains as dear to me. And thou hast seen how that keen shaft of thine, ’Gainst which the might of Death himself is vain, Smote on one ardent, faithful breast full sore. Now loose the cords that fast my soul entwine, For though of freedom ne’er I reck’d before, Yet now I yearn my freedom to regain.]