Torquato Tasso (1544–1595)

Translated by Baroness von Gilsa

IN thy young spring, like some new-budding rose

Wert thou, that from the wind’s warm breathing hides

In bashful maidenhood, and safe abides

Within its leafy covert, soft and close;

Or, since with thee may nothing vie that knows

The touch of Death,—like some fair dawn that glides

O’er dew-impearlëd fields, and down the sides

Of golden hills in new-born beauty glows.

Now thy green spring is past, yet riper years

Take naught from thee, nor can a lovelier one

In youthful gladness smile at thy decay;

More beautiful the perfect flower appears

In odorous prime,—more glorious is the sun

That crowns the broad arch of the bright noon-day.