This page needs to be proofread.
PETRARCA.
I KNEW a bard, Petrarca, who did sing
His love-worn ditties, melancholy sweet,
And played upon his lute of single string
The dances suited to his weary feet,
Until 'twas said, " If this man had not loved,
Had not been held so long in bitter thrall,
Then he a mighty hero-bard had proved,
Had soared above earth's sorrows mean and small.
But in the broken lute a spirit moved, —
" Had he not loved, he ne'er had sung at all."
