285. ‘Né mai pietosa madre al caro figlio’

Never did mother caring for her dear son

nor lady burning for her beloved husband

give such faithful counsel to an anxious mind

with such sighing, and with such concern,

as she, gazing on my heavy exile

from her eternal refuge in the sky,

offers me, with her usual affection,

her brow shining with two-fold pity:

now a mother’s, now a lover’s: anxious

or burning with virtuous fire: showing me

in her speech what path to flee or follow,

in all the changes of this life of ours,

begging me to ennoble my soul quickly:

and only while she speaks, do I rest.