Ye clear and sparkling streams,
Warm'd by the sunny beams,
Through whose transparent crystal Laura play'd;
Ye boughs, that deck the grove.
Where Spring her chaplets wove,
While Laura lay beneath tin; quivering shade;
Sweet herbs, and blushing flowers,
That crown yon vernal bowers
For ever fatal, yet for ever dear;
And ye, that heard my sighs
When first she charm'd my eyes,
Soft-breathing gales, my dying accents hear.
If heaven has fix'd my doom,
That Love must quite consume
My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death;
Ah! grant this flight request,
That hero my urn may rest
When to its mansion flies my vital breath.
This pleasing hope will smooth
My anxious wind, and sooth
The pangs of that inevitable hour;
My spirit will not grieve
Her mortal veil to leave
In these calm shades, and this enchanting bower.
Haply the guilty maid
Through yon accustom'd glade
To my sad tomb will take her lonely way;
Where first her breauty's light
O'erpower'd my dazzled sight,
When Love on this fair border bade me stray
There forrowing shall she see,
Beneath an aged tree,
Her true but hapless lover's lowly bier;
Too late her tender sighs
Shall melt the pitying skies,
And her soft veil shall hide the gushing tear.
I view'd the heavenly maid;
And, rapt in wonder, said
"The groves of Eden gave this angel birth;"
Her look, her voice, her smile,
That might all heaven beguile,
Wasted my soul above the realms of earth:
The star-bespangled skies
Were open'd to my eyes;
Sighing I said, "Whence rose this glittering scene?"
Since that auspicious hour,
This bank, and odorous bower,
My morning couch, and evening haunt, have been.
Well mayst thou blush, my song,
To leave the rural throng,
And fly thus artless to my Laura's ear;
But, were thy poet's lire
Ardent as his desire,
Thou wert a song that heaven might stoop to hear.
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Chiare, frefche, e dolcj acque,
Ove le belle membra
Pofe colei, che fola a me par doana;
Gentil ramo, ove piacque
(Con fofpir mi rimembra)
A lei di fare al bel fianco colonna;
Erba e fior', che la gonna
Leggiadra ricoverfe
Coll' angelico feno;
Aer facro fareno
Ov' Amor co' begli occhi il cor m' aperfe;
Date udicnza infieme
Alle dolenti mie parole eftreme.
S' egli e pur mio deftino,
E'l cielo in cio s' adopra,
Ch' amor quefti oechi lagrimando chiuda,
Qualche grazia il mefehino
Corpo fra voi ricopra;
E torni l' alma al proprio albergo ignuda:
La morte fia men cruda,
Se quefta fpeme porto
A quel dubbiofo paffo;
Che lo fpirito laffo
Non poria mai in piu ripofato porto
N'eri piu tranquilla foffa
Fuggir la carne travagliata e l' offa
Tempo verra ancor forfe
Ch' all' ufato foggiorno
Torni la fera bella e manfueta;
E la, ov' ella mi fcorfe
Nel benedetto giorno
Volga la vifta deliofa e lieta,
Cercandomi, ed, o pieta,
Gia terra infra la pietre
Vedendo, Amor l' infpiri
In guifa che fofpiri
Si dolcemente che merce m' impetre,
E faccia forza al cielo
Afcuigandofi gli occhi col bel velo
Quante volte diffs'io
Allor pien di fpavento
"Coftei per fermo nacque in paradifo,"
Cofi carco d' oblio
Il divin portamento
E'l volto, e le parole, e'l dolce rifo
M' aveano, e fi divifo
Dall' imagine vera,
Ch' i' dicea fofpirando,
"Qui come venn' io, o quando?"
Credendo effer' in ciel, non la dov' era.
Da indi in qua mi piace
Quefta erba fi ch' altrove non o pace.
Se tu aveffi ornamenti quant' ai voglia
Potrefti arditamente
Ufcir del bofco, e gir' infra la gente.
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