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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
He Seeks Solitude, but Love Follows him Everywhere
By Petrarch (1304–1374)
 
“Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi”

Anonymous Translation: Oxford, 1795

ALONE, and lost in thought, the desert glade
  Measuring, I roam with ling’ring steps and slow;
  And still a watchful glance around me throw,
Anxious to shun the print of human tread:
No other means I find, no surer aid        5
  From the world’s prying eye to hide my woe:
  So well my wild disordered gestures show,
And love-lorn looks, the fire within me bred,
That well I deem each mountain, wood, and plain,
  And river knows what I from man conceal,—        10
    What dreary hues my life’s fond prospects dim.
Yet whate’er wild or savage paths I’ve ta’en,
  Where’er I wander, Love attends me still,
    Soft whisp’ring to my soul, and I to him.
 
 
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