Page:Sonnets and Ballate of Guido Cavalcanti.djvu/147

 PRAY ye gentles, ye who speak of grief, Out of new clemency, for my relief That ye disdain not to attend my pain.

I see my heart stand up before mine eyes, While my self-slaying mournful soul receiveth Love’s mortal stroke and in that moment dies, Yea, in the very instant he perceiveth Milady, and yet that smiling sprite who cleaveth To her in joy, that very one is he Who sets the seal of my mortality.

But should ye hear my sad heart’s lamentation Then would a trembling reach your heart’s midmost. For Love holds with me such sweet conversation That Pity, by your sighs, ye would accost. To all less keen than ye the sense were lost, Nor other hearts could think soft nor speak loudly How dire the throng of sorrows that enshroud me.

Yea from my mind behold what tears arise As soon as it hath news of Her, Milady, Forth move they making passage through the eyes