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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

He Revisits Vaucluse

By Petrarch (1304–1374)

“Sento l’ aura mia antica, e i dolci colli”

Translation of Anne Bannerman

ONCE more, ye balmy gales, I feel you blow;

Again, sweet hills, I mark the morning beams

Gild your green summits; while your silver streams

Through vales of fragrance undulating flow.

But you, ye dreams of bliss, no longer here

Give life and beauty to the glowing scene;

For stern remembrance stands where you have been,

And blasts the verdure of the blooming year.

O Laura! Laura! in the dust with thee,

Would I could find a refuge from despair!

Is this thy boasted triumph, Love, to tear

A heart thy coward malice dares not free;

And bid it live, while every hope is fled,

To weep among the ashes of the dead?