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161. ‘O passi sparsi, o pensier’ vaghi et pronti,’
O wandering steps, O swift and errant thoughts,
O fixed memory, O wild ardour,
O powerful desire, O weakened heart,
O eyes of mine, not eyes now, but fountains!
O leaves, that honour famous brows,
O one sole emblem of double worth!
O weary life, O sweet error,
that makes me go searching plains and hills!
O lovely face where Love has set together
the reins and spurs that make me twist and turn,
at pleasure: and no use to kick against them!
O gentle loving spirits, if there are
any in this world, and you, naked dust and shadows,
pause and see the nature of my ills.