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Among so many beauteous, could espy,
Without confusion, the most perfect face.
The fair in crowds sought forth, polite as wise,
To Age and Rank superior, with his hand
He mark'd his wish, and with attentions due.
Approaching, kiss'd her forehead and her eyes;
An honour, praised by all the unbiass'd band;
But filling me with envy at the view!

SONNET

ON A WATER-PARTY OF LADIES, AMONG WHOM

WAS LAURA, GOING DOWN THE RHONE IN A BOAT, AND RETURNING IN A CARRIAGE.

TWELVE dames, with toil not unbecoming worn,
Rather twelve stars, and in the midst a Sun,
I saw sit gaily in a bark, that none
E'er equall'd, on a buoyant current born.
Seeking that sheep now Finery had shorn

To load its dress,* not Jason enter'd one
So glorious, nor the swain, by whom undone
Troy is yet doom'd its cruel fate to mourn.
In a triumphal car where, with delight,
All listen'd, then my Laura to the rest
Sung sweetly, seated from the troop not far,

As home they moved. O what a glorious sight!
To steer the bark, how, Typhis, wast thou bless'd,
And thou Automedon, to guide the car!

SONNET.

THAT Window where my Sun is often seen Refulgent, and the world's at morning's hours;t And that, where Boreas blows, when Winter lowers,

* This is supposed to censure the fashions of the age. + These particulars are related of Laura's house: Maurice de Seves, in 1540, says, that in the Fauxbourg of the Cordeliers, a small ancient house, built with yellow stone, was called Laura's house. It was watered by the Sorga, and was the second house to the left in the Faux

And the short days reveal a clouded scene;

That bench of stone where, with a pensive mein, My Laura sits, forgetting Beauty's powers;

Haunts where her shadow strikes the walls of

flowers,

And her feet press the paths or herbage green:

The place where Love assail'd me with success.
And Spring, the fatal time, that, first observed,
Revives the keen remembrance every year;
With looks and words, that o'er me have preserved
A power, no length of time can render less,
Call to my eyes the sadly-soothing tear.

bourg, after passing the portail Peint. It adjoined to a tavern called the Cheval Blanc, and which was in existence not long before 1764, the date of the Memoires de Petrarque.

PETRARCH.

PART II.

POEMS AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA.*

ODE.

Ir thou would's have me sofer, Love, thy yoke,

Again (tity wish I see, new power begia

To shew, and fame unvoned wiz

Lest at the trial I appear unbroke.

Fly to the sacred grave, and warm wila

That beart, the seat of Virtue, and these eyes
Cheer with that moral, fair and wise,

*The day is mentioned in 1327, when Petrarch fr saw Laura; and she died on the same day, in 14

Whose loss now beggars, as she made me bless'd.
Yes; if 'tis justly by the world confess'd

Thy power to Heaven, and to the dark abyss
Below extends, (alas! in tracts remote,
Or other worlds, if we but note

That power surmised, we feel its force in this!)
Snatch from the cruel King his beauteous prey;

Again thy banners where she looks display.

Kindle those matchless eyes, again to beam,

Which were my honour'd guide; and the soft flame That cheer'd the gloom of life, the same

That slumbering warms. How would it waking

burn?

Never the wearied hart so eager came,
Athirst, to sip the fountain or the stream,

As I sought forth the charms, I deem
Will oft to mournful Memory return.

For sad Experience from the past may learn,
My raving thoughts are deaf to Reason's voice;
As among wildering ways decoy'd,

We follow one, till soon it mocks our choice.

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