The Vanity of his Passion
O you, who hear in scattered verse the sound
Of all those sighs with which my heart I fed,
When I, by youthful error was misled,
Unlike my present self in passion drowned;
Who hears the woes, the pleadings that abound
Throughout my song, by hopes and vain griefs bred;
If ever true love its influence over you shed,
Oh ! let your pity be with pardon crowned.
But now full well I see how to the crowd
For a long time I proved a public jest:
Even by myself my folly is confessed:
And of my vanity, what's left is shame,
Repentance, and a knowledge deep impressed,
That worldly pleasure is a passing dream.
Sonnet written by Francesco Petrarca for Laura, of course. Who else? This devout Renaissance poet drew inspiration from Dante, but maybe never escaped his shadow.
Said he, in his Letter to Posterity (everybody should write a ltter to posterity):
"In my youth I was blessed with an agile, active body, though not particularly strong; and while I cannot boast of being very handsome, I was good-looking enough in my younger days. I had a clear complexion, between light and dark, lively eyes, and for many years sharp vision, which, however, unexpectedly deserted me when I passed my sixtieth birthday, and forced me, reluctantly, to resort to the use of glasses. Although I had always been perfectly healthy, old age assailed me with its usual array of discomforts."
