Chapter II

When Love doth those sweet eyes to earth incline,
And weaves those wandering notes into a sigh
With his own touch, and leads a minstrelsy
Clear-voiced and pure, angelic and divine,--
He makes sweet havoc in this heart of mine,
And to my thoughts brings transformation high,
So that I say, "My time has come to die,
If fate so blest a death for me design."
But to my soul, thus steeped in joy, the sound
Brings such a wish to keep that present heaven,
It holds my spirit back to earth as well.
And thus I live: and thus is loosed and wound
The thread of life which unto me was given
By this sole Siren who with us doth dwell.

III

Aura che quelle chiome bionde e crespe
Circondi e movi, e se' mossa da loro
Soavemente, e spargi quel dolce oro,
E poi 'l raccogli e 'n bei nodi 'l rincrespe;
Tu stai negli occhi ond'amorose vespe
Mi pungon sì, che 'nfin qua il sento e ploro;
E vacillando cerco il mio tesoro,
Com'animal che spesso adombre e 'ncespe:
Ch'or mel par ritrovar, ed or m'accorgo
Ch'i' ne son lunge; or mi sollevo, or caggio:
Ch'or quel ch'i' bramo, or quel ch'è vero, scorgo.
Aer felice, col bel vivo raggio
Rimanti. E tu, corrente e chiaro gorgo,
Ché non poss'io cangiar teco viaggio?