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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
His Only Desire Is Again to be with her
By Petrarch (1304–1374)
 
“Passato è ’l tempo omai, lasso! che tanto”

Translation of Dr. Morehead

AH! gone for ever are the happy years
  That soothed my soul amid Love’s fiercest fire,
  And she for whom I wept and tuned my lyre
Has gone, alas!—but left my lyre, my tears:
Gone is the face, whose holy look endears;        5
  But in my heart, ere yet it did retire,
  Left the sweet radiance of its eyes entire;
My heart? Ah, no! not mine! for to the spheres
Of light she bore it captive, soaring high,
  In angel robe triumphant, and now stands        10
Crowned with the laurel wreath of chastity:
  Oh, could I throw aside these earthly bands
That tie me down where wretched mortals sigh,
  To join blest spirits in celestial lands!
 
 
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