210. ‘Non da l’hispano Hibero a l’indo Ydaspe’

Not from Spain’s Ebro to India’s Hydaspes,

searching every cliff above the seas,

not from the Red-Sea coast to the Caspian’s waves,

is there another phoenix in earth or heaven.

What benign raven or ill-omened ox

spells my destiny, what Fate preserves me?

I’ve only found Pity deaf, wretchedly,

where I had hoped to be happy.

Who would not speak of her: he who sees her,

his whole heart’s filled with love and sweetness,

she has so much, and grants it to so many:

and she makes my sweetness harsh and bitter,

or feigns she does not care or does not see

how my temples whiten before their time.