TO TELESIUS OF COSENZA.

Telesio, il telo.

Telesius, the arrow from thy bow
    Midmost his band of sophists slays that high
    Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly: 
    While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow. 
Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow,
    Smitten by bards elate with victory: 
    Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully
    Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe! 
Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene
    With robes translucent, light-irradiate,
    Restoring her to all her natural sheen;
The while my tocsin at the temple-gate
    Of the wide universe proclaims her queen,
    Pythia of first and last ordained by fate.

LVII.

TO RIDOLFO DI BINA.

Senno ed Amor.

Wisdom and love, O Bina, gave thee wings,
    Before the blossom of thy years had faded,
    To fly with Adam for thy guide, God-aided,
    Through many lands in divers journeyings. 
Pure virtue is thy guerdon:  virtue brings
    Glory to thee, death to the foes degraded,
    Who through long years of darkness have invaded
    Thy Germany, mother of slaves not kings. 
Yet, gazing on heaven’s book, heroic child,
    My soul discerns graces divine in thee:—­
    Leave toys and playthings to the crowd of fools! 
Do thou with heart fervent and proudly mild
    Make war upon those fraud-engendering schools! 
    I see thee victor, and in God I see.

LVIII.

TO TOBIA ADAMI.

Portando in man.

Holding the cynic lantern in your hand,
    Through Europe, Egypt, Asia, you have passed,
    Till at Ausonia’s feet you find at last
    That Cyclops’ cave, where I, to darkness banned,
In light eternal forge for you the brand
    Against Abaddon, who hath overcast
    The truth and right, Adami, made full fast
    Unto God’s glory by our steadfast band. 
Go, smite each sophist, tyrant, hypocrite! 
    Girt with the arms of the first Wisdom, free
    Your country from the frauds that cumber it! 
Swerve not:  ’twere sin.  How good, how great the praise
    Of him who turns youth, strength, soul, energy,
    Unto the dayspring of the eternal rays!

LIX.

A SONNET ON CAUCASUS.

Temo che per morir.

I fear that by my death the human race
    Would gain no vantage.  Thus I do not die. 
    So wide is this vast cage of misery
    That flight and change lead to no happier place. 
Shifting our pains, we risk a sorrier case: 
    All worlds, like ours, are sunk in agony: 
    Go where we will, we feel; and this my cry
    I may forget like many an