From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace
    Eternal to a brief and hollow truce,
    How have I fallen!—­when ’tis truth we lose,
    Sense triumphs o’er all adverse impulses. 
I know not if my heart bred this disease,
    That still more pleasing grows with growing use;
    Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues
    And fires of Paradise—­less fair than these. 
Thy beauty is no mortal thing; ’twas sent
    From heaven on high to make our earth divine: 
    Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I’m content;
For in thy sight what could I do but pine? 
    If God himself thus rules my destiny,
    Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee?

L.

IN LOVE’S OWN TIME.

S’ i’ avessi creduto.

Had I but earlier known that from the eyes
    Of that bright soul that fires me like the sun,
    I might have drawn new strength my race to run,
    Burning as burns the phoenix ere it dies;
Even as the stag or lynx or leopard flies
    To seek his pleasure and his pain to shun,
    Each word, each smile of her would I have won,
    Flying where now sad age all flight denies. 
Yet why complain?  For even now I find
    In that glad angel’s face, so full of rest,
    Health and content, heart’s ease and peace of mind
Perchance I might have been less simply blest,
    Finding her sooner:  if ’tis age alone
    That lets me soar with her to seek God’s throne.

LI.

FIRST READING.

LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE.

Tornami al tempo.

Bring back the time when blind desire ran free,
    With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight;
    Give back the buried face, once angel-bright,
    That hides in earth all comely things from me;
Bring back those journeys ta’en so toilsomely,
    So toilsome-slow to one whose hairs are white;
    Those tears and flames that in one breast unite;
    If thou wilt once more take thy fill of me! 
Yet Love!  Suppose it true that thou dost thrive
    Only on bitter honey-dews of tears. 
    Small profit hast thou of a weak old man. 
My soul that toward the other shore doth strive,
    Wards off thy darts with shafts of holier fears;
    And fire feeds ill on brands no breath can fan.

LI.

SECOND READING.

LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE.

Tornami al tempo.

Bring back the time when glad desire ran free
    With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight,
    The tears and flames that in one breast unite,
    If thou art fain once more to conquer me! 
Bring back those journeys ta’en so toilsomely,
    So toilsome-slow to him whose hairs are white!