Poems of Giacomo Leopardi/Poem 17

CONSALVO.

Approaching now the end of his abode On earth, Consalvo lay; complaining once, Of his hard fate, but now quite reconciled, When, in the midst of his fifth lustre, o'er His head oblivion, so longed-for, hung. As for some time, so, on his dying day, He lay, abandoned by his dearest friends: For in the world, few friends to _him_ will cling, Who shows that he is weary of the world. Yet _she_ was at his side, by pity led, In his lone wretchedness to comfort him, Who was alone and ever in his thought; Elvira, for her loveliness renowned; And knowing well her power; that a look, A single sweet and gracious word from _her_, A thousand-fold repeated in the heart, Devoted, of her hapless lover, still His consolation and support had been, Although no word of love had she from him E'er heard. For ever in his soul the power Of great desire had been rebuked and crushed By sovereign fear. So great a child and slave Had he become, through his excess of love! But death at last the cruel silence broke; For being by sure signs convinced, that now The day of his deliverance had come, Her white hand taking, as she was about To leave, and gently pressing it, he said: "Thou goest; it is time for thee to go; Farewell, Elvira! I shall never see  Thee more; too well I know it; so, farewell!  I thank thee for thy gentle sympathy,  So far as my poor lips my thanks can speak.  _He_ will reward thee, who alone has power,  If heaven e'er rewards the merciful." Pale turned the fair one at these words; a sigh Her bosom heaved; for e'en a stranger's heart A throb responsive feels, when she departs, And says farewell forever. Fain would she Have contradicted him, the near approach Of fate concealing from the dying man. But he, her thought anticipating, said: "Ah, much desired, as well thou knowest, death, Much prayed for, and not dreaded, comes to me;  Nay, joyful seems to me this fatal day,  Save for the thought of losing thee forever;  Alas, forever do I part from thee!  In saying this my heart is rent in twain.  Those eyes I shall no more behold, nor hear  Thy voice. But, O Elvira, say, before  Thou leavest me forever, wilt thou not  One kiss bestow? A single kiss, in all  My life? A favor asked, who can deny  Unto a dying man? Of the sweet gift  I ne'er can boast, so near my end, whose lips  To-day will by a stranger's hand be closed  Forever." Saying this, with a deep sigh, Her hand beloved he with his cold lips pressed.

The lovely woman stood irresolute, And thoughtful, for a moment, with her look, In which a thousand charms were radiant, Intent on that of the unhappy man, Where the last tear was glittering. Nor would Her heart permit her to refuse with scorn His wish, and by refusal, make more sad The sad farewell; but she compassion took Upon his love, which she had known so long; And that celestial face, that mouth, which he So long had coveted, which had, for years, The burden been of all his dreams and sighs, Close bringing unto his, so sad and wan, Discolored by his mortal agony, Kiss after kiss, all goodness, with a look Of deep compassion, on the trembling lips Of the enraptured lover she impressed.

What didst thou then become? How in thy eyes Appeared life, death, and all thy suffering, Consalvo, in thy flight now pausing? He The hand, which still he held, of his beloved Elvira, placing on his heart, whose last Pulsations love with death was sharing, said: "Elvira, my Elvira, am I still On earth? Those lips, were they thy lips? O, say!  And do I press thy hand? Alas, it seems  A dead man's vision, or a dream, or thing  Incredible! How much, Elvira, O,  How much I owe to death! Long has my love  Been known to thee, and unto others, for  True love cannot be hidden on the earth.  Too manifest it was to thee, in looks,  In acts, in my unhappy countenance,  But never in my words. For then, and now,  Forever would the passion infinite,  That rules my heart, be silent, had not death  With courage filled it. I shall die content;  Henceforth, with destiny, no more regret  That I e'er saw the light. I have not lived  In vain, now that my lips have been allowed  Thy lips to press. Nay, happy I esteem  My lot. Two precious things the world still gives  To mortals, Love and Death. To one, heaven guides  Me now, in youth; and in the other, I  Am fortunate. Ah, hadst thou once, but once, Responded to my long-enduring love, To my changed eyes this earth for evermore Had been transformed into a Paradise. E'en to old age, detestable old age, Could I have been resigned and reconciled. To bear its heavy load, the memory Of one transcendent moment had sufficed, When I was happier than the happiest, But, ah, such bliss supreme the envious gods To earthly natures ne'er have given! Love In such excess ne'er leads to happiness. And yet, thy love to win, I would have borne The tortures of the executioner; Have faced the rack and fagot, dauntlessly; Would from thy loving arms have rushed into The fearful flames of hell, with cheerfulness.

"Elvira, O Elvira, happy he, Beyond all mortal happiness, on whom  Thou dost the smile of love bestow! And next  Is he, who can lay down his life for thee!  It _is_ permitted, it is not a dream,  As I, alas, have always fancied it,  To man, on earth true happiness to find.  I knew it well, the day I looked on thee.  That look to me, indeed, has fatal been:  And yet, I could not bring myself, midst all  My sufferings, that cruel day to blame.

"Now live, Elvira, happy, and adorn The world with thy fair countenance. None e'er  Will love thee as I loved thee. Such a love  Will ne'er be seen on earth. How much, alas,  How long a time by poor Consalvo hast  Thou been with sighs and bitter tears invoked!  How, when I heard thy name, have I turned pale!  How have I trembled, and been sick at heart,  As timidly thy threshold I approached,  At that angelic voice, at sight of that  Fair brow, I, who now tremble not at death!  But breath and life no longer will respond  Unto the voice of love. The time has passed;  Nor can I e'er this happy day recall.  Farewell, Elvira! With its vital spark  Thy image so beloved is from my heart  Forever fading. Oh, farewell! If this,  My love offend thee not, to-morrow eve  One sigh wilt thou bestow upon my bier." He ceased; and soon he lost his consciousness: Ere evening came, his first, his only day Of happiness had faded from his sight.

Poésies et Œuvres morales (Leopardi)/Poésies/XVII Canti (Leopardi - Donati)/XVII. Consalvo