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Sonnet LXXXIX.
By Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch)
Sennuccio, i' vo' che sappi in qual maniera.
HE RELATES TO HIS FRIEND SENNUCCIO HIS UNHAPPINESS, AND THE VARIED MOOD OF LAURA.
To thee, Sennuccio, fain would I declare,
To sadden life, what wrongs, what woes I find:
Still glow my wonted flames; and, though resign'd
To Laura's fickle will, no change I bear.
All humble now, then haughty is my fair;
Now meek, then proud; now pitying, then unkind:
Softness and tenderness now sway her mind;
Then do her looks disdain and anger wear.
Here would she sweetly sing, there sit awhile,
Here bend her step, and there her step retard;
Here her bright eyes my easy heart ensnared;
There would she speak fond words, here lovely smile;
There frown contempt;--such wayward cares I prove
By night, by day; so wills our tyrant Love!
ANON. 1777.
Alas, Sennuccio! would thy mind could frame
What now I suffer! what my life's drear reign;
Consumed beneath my heart's continued pain,
At will she guides me--yet am I the same.
Now humble--then doth pride her soul inflame;
Now harsh--then gentle; cruel--kind again;
Now all reserve--then borne on frolic's vein;
Disdain alternates with a milder claim.
Here once she sat, and there so sweetly sang;
Here turn'd to look on me, and lingering stood;
There first her beauteous eyes my spirit stole:
And here she smiled, and there her accents rang,
Her speaking face here told another mood.
Thus Love, our sovereign, holds me in control.
WOLLASTON.
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