320. ‘Sento l’aura mia enticha, e i dolci colli’

I feel the ancient breeze, and see sweet hills

appear, where the lovely light was born

that held these eyes of mine while heaven pleased,

with longing and delight, now tears and sadness.

O fallen hopes: O foolish thoughts!

The grass is widowed and the water clouded,

cold and void the nest she dwelt in,

where I wished to live, and once dead rest,

hoping, after the sweet weeping

and the lovely eyes, that torched my heart,

for some repose after such toil.

I served a mean and cruel lord:

and burned when my fire was before me,

now I go weeping for her scattered dust.