Ballate
BALLATA VI
The harshness of my strange and new misventure
Hath in my mind distraught
The wonted fragrance of love’s every thought.
Already is my Life in such part shaken
That she, my gracious lady of delight,
Hath left my soul most desolate forsaken
And e’en the place she was, is gone from sight;
And there rests not within me so much might
That my mind can reach forth
To comprehend the flower of her worth.
This noble thought is come well winged with death,
Namely, that I shall ne’er see her again,
And this harsh torment, with no pity fraught,
Increaseth bitterness and in its strain
I cry, and find none to attend my pain,
While for the flame I feel,
I thank that lord who turns grief’s fortune wheel.
Full of all anguish and within Fear’s gates
The spirit of my heart lies sorrowfully,
Thanks to that Fortune who my fortune hates,
Who ’th spun death’s lot where it most irketh me
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