323. ‘Standomi un giorno solo a la fenestra,’

One day, standing alone at my window,

from which I saw so many novel things,

I was almost weary merely from gazing,

I saw a wild creature appear from my right,

with human features enough to make Jove burn,

hunted by two hounds, one white, one black:

that gnawed the two flanks

of that gentle creature so fiercely

that in no time at all it led to such a pass,

that she was enclosed by stone,

bitter death had conquered great beauty:

and I was left sighing at her harsh fate.

Then I saw a ship in the deep ocean,

with silken ropes, and golden sails,

the rest equal to ivory and ebony:

the sea was calm, and the breeze was gentle,

and the sky as when no cloud veils it,

and she carried a rich cargo of virtue:

then a sudden tempest

from the east churned air and waves,

so that the ship foundered on a reef.

Oh what a heavy sadness!

A brief hour conquered, a small space hid,

that noble treasure without a peer.

In a fresh grove, the sacred branches

of a laurel flowered, young and slender,

it seemed a tree of paradise:

and such sweet singing of varied birds

issued from its shade, such noble joy,

that I was lifted above this world:

and gazing intently,

the sky altered all round, and darkened,

lightning struck, and suddenly

that happy plant

was torn up by its roots: so my life is saddened,

since I cannot ask for such another shade.

In that same grove a crystal fountain sprang

from beneath a stone, and sprinkled

sweet fresh water, murmuring gently:

no shepherd or flocks ever approached

that lovely place, secret, shadowy and dark,

but nymphs and Muses singing to its tones:

there I sat: and while

I absorbed the sweetness of that harmony,

and of the sight, I saw a cave yawn wide,

and carry with it

the fountain and its site: so I feel the grief,

and the memory alone dismays me.

I saw a strange phoenix, both its wings

clothed in crimson, and its head with gold,

solitary and alone in the wood,

I first thought its form heavenly and immortal

to the sight, till it reached the uprooted laurel,

and the fountain that the earth had swallowed:

all things fly towards their end:

seeing the leaves scattered on the ground,

and the broken trunk, and that dry spring,

it turned its beak on itself,

almost disdainfully, and in a moment vanished:

so that my heart burns with pity and love.

Lastly I saw a lovely graceful lady

go pensive among the flowers and grass,

so I can’t think of her without burning, trembling:

humble in herself, she was proud before Love:

and she had on so white a gown,

so woven it seemed gold mixed with snow:

but the crown of her head

was hidden by a dark mist:

then, stung by a little snake in the heel,

she bowed like a flower when picked,

glad and confident to depart.

Ah, nothing but weeping lasts in this world!

Song, you might well say:

‘These visions have given

my lord a sweet desire to die.’

Note: Laura reputedly died of the Black Death, in 1348, the plague being the ‘storm from the East.’

‘The Plague on the Island of Aegina’ - Matthijs Pool (German, 1696 - 1727), The Rijksmuseum