Se Mercé fosse amica a’ miei disiri*
This fallen night the ancient girl
My hot agitated digits furled, and
These hands enjoined; they hailed her world.
Yet flagrant grief incensed me. Hence
I groped her gracious confidence–
Fessing high crimes that spurn defense.
Silent condemnation thundered.
What whispered treaties were, were sundered
Into stupefied and wilding wonder.
O! O, ave!
Now blasted asters arch the night,
Loos’ning true, and failing, dismal light.
. . . . Banish those allurements of the heights!
Ave, ave! O! Ave! Ave!
*: If Mercy were a friend to my desires – by Guido Cavalcanti (c. 1255 – 1300), an early innovator of the love sonnet and friend and contemporary of Dante.
by Jeremiah Duboff, who blogs as Jeremayakovka.
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