Francesco Petrarca (1304–1374)

Translated by Barbarina, Lady Dacre

THE PALMER bent, with locks of silver grey,

Quits the sweet spot where he has passed his years,

Quits his poor family, whose anxious fears

Paint the loved father fainting on his way:

And trembling, on his aged limbs slow borne,

In these last days that close his earthly course,

He, in his soul’s strong purpose, finds new force.

Though weak with age, though by long travel worn:

Thus reaching Rome, led on by pious love,

He seeks the image of that Saviour Lord

Whom soon he hopes to meet in bliss above:

So, oft in other forms I seek to trace

Some charm, that to my heart may yet afford

A faint resemblance of thy matchless grace.