Laura, by Petrarch

Sonnet 104.

Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra.

Love’s Inconsistency.

I fynde no peace and all my warre is done,

I feare and hope, I bourne and freese lyke yse;

I flye above the wynde, yet cannot ryse;

And nought I have, yet all the worlde I season,

That looseth, nor lacketh, holdes me in pryson,

And holdes me not, yet can I escape no wyse.

Nor lets me leeve, nor die at my devyce,

And yet of death it giveth none occasion.

Without eye I see, and without tongue I playne;

I desyre to perishe, yet aske I health;

I love another, and yet I hate my self;

I feede in sorrow and laughe in all my payne,

Lykewyse pleaseth me both death and lyf,

And my delight is cawser of my greif.


S Harrington’s Nugæ Antiquæ.

Warfare I cannot wage, yet know not peace;

I fear, I hope, I burn, I freeze again;

Mount to the skies, then bow to earth my face;

Grasp the whole world, yet nothing can obtain.

His prisoner Love nor frees, nor will detain;

In toils he holds me not, nor will release;

He slays me not, nor yet will he unchain;

Nor joy allows, nor lets my sorrow cease.

Sightless I see my fair; though mute, I mourn;

I scorn existence, and yet court its stay;

Detest myself, and for another burn;

By grief I’m nurtured; and, though tearful, gay;

Death I despise, and life alike I hate:

Such, lady, dost thou make my wayward state!


Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:59