QUIS DESIDERIO
Check not thy tears, nor be ashamed to sorrow
For one so dear. Sing us a plaintive song,
O Muse, who from thy sire the lute didst borrow—
The lute and notes melodious and strong.
So will he wake again from slumber never?
O, when will Purity, to Justice dear,
Faith unalloyed and Truth unspotted ever,
When will these virtues ever find his peer?
For him the tears of noble men are flowing,
But thine, O Virgil, bitterest of all!
Thou prayest God to give him back, not knowing
He may not, cannot hearken to thy call.
For if thy lyre could move the forests, swelling
More sweetly than the Thracian bard's of old,
His soul could not revisit its old dwelling;
For now among the dead he is enrolled
By Mercury, all deaf to supplication,
Obdurate, gathering all with ruthless rod.
'Tis hard; but Patience lightens Tribulation
When to remove it is denied by God.
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