TRANSLATIONS.

SONNET.

FAIR Lady! whose harmonious name the Rhine,
Through all his grassy vale, delights to hear,

Base were indeed the wretch, who could forbear
To love a spirit elegant as thine,

That manifests a sweetness all divine,

Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare, which Love's bow and arrows are,

And

graces,

Temp'ring thy virtures to a softer shine. When gracefully thou speak'st, or singest gay Such strains, as might the senseless forest move, Ah then-turn each his eyes, and ears, away,

Who feels himself unworthy of thy love!

Grace can alone preserve him, ere the dart,
Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart.

SONETTO.

DONNA leggiadra, il cui bel nome honora L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco; Ben è colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora ; Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora

De sui atti soavi giamai parco,

Ei don' che son d'amor saette ed arco,
La onde l'alta tua virtu s'infiora.

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti

Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,

Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi

L'entrata, chi di te si trouva indegno;

Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti

Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.

SONNET

As on a hill-top rude, when closing day
Imbrowns the scene, some past'ral maiden fair

Waters a lovely foreign plant with care,
Borne from its native genial airs away,

That scarcely can its tender bud display,

So, on my tongue these accents, new, and rare,
Are flow'rs exotic, which Love waters there,
While thus, O sweetly scornful! I essay
Thy praise, in verse to British ears unknown,

And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain;
So Love has will'd, and oftimes Love has shown

That what he wills, he never wills in vain.

Oh that this hard and steril breast might be,
To Him, who plants from Heav'n, a soil as free!

SONETTO.

Qual in colle aspro, all' imbrunir di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella

Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
-Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,

Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella Desta il fior novo di strania favella, Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera, Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso, E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno. Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso Şeppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno. Deh! foss'il mio cuor lento, e'l duro seno

A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.

CANZONE.

THEY mock my toil-the nymphs and am'rous swains

And whence this fond attempt to write, they cry,
Love songs in language, that thou little know'st?
How dar'st thou risque to sing these foreign strains?
Say truly. Find'st not oft thy purpose cross'd,
And that thy fairest flow'rs, here fade and die?
Then with pretence of admiration high-
Thee other shores expect, and other tides,
Rivers, on whose grassy sides

Her deathless laurel leaf, with which to bind
Thy flowing locks, already Fame provides;

Why then this burthen, better far declin'd?

Speak Muse! for me. The fair one said, who

guides

My willing heart, and all my fancy's flights,

“This is the language, in which love delights.