SONNET XII. ON THE PORTRAIT OF HELENA FORMAN, THE SECOND WIFE OF RUBENS. THIS was a Helen of a latter day, And of a cloudier clime than the bright dame Was worthily bestowed, the sooth to say, As those which brought old Ilion down, for aye! She was the other love, (ah! happy lot!) Of him who did so mourn yon charming Kate. How thou couldst yield again thy widowed heart I marvel not;-in faith I marvel not. SONNET XIII. SCRITTO NELL' IMITAZIONE DEL PETRARCA E PER ESPRIMERE I SENTIMENTI SUOI. BEN lunga servitute ho provata io, Nelle catene del tiranno Amore; Che 'l suo regno è un Egitto, ed egli ha il cuore, D'anno in anno, tutto il lavoro mio Speso ho per questo crudel' esattore, Così 'n me signoreggia il van disio. Pur credo omai che, per poter scampare Dell' empio impero, il cammin mi fia aperto, Come al popol Ebreo fù già concesso : Ma vuoto m'apparecchia a viaggare, Anzi spogliato ad errar, nel diserto; Ne spero di veder suolo promesso. SONNET XIV. TO LOUIS PHILIPPE. BESOTTED traitor, art thou still untaught, Thou that hast seen the great leviathan Of popular power awake, when it began Such pigmies as thyself? Still dost thou plan Like Babel's impious king, who sate, of old, Affright shall rack thee quickly. Turn: behold: THE GRIEFLESS. THOUGH falsehood be an inmate of thy heart, For once, thou hast forgot the liar's art ; Art did I call it ?-such it well may be To others, but 'tis natural to thee, And only in those moments rare, when Truth The native lie, back to thy bosom's core, So lamely dost thou dare the unwonted task, Yes, I can well believe that thou couldst view, Of Nature, scenes that all the tears should claim As to evoke unreal things to be, And work a weeping miracle in thee! Thus, with foul boast, it still is thine to say |