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The general structure is in the form of poems. The corresponding aspect triumphs over the previous. The order goes:
Love, Chastity, Death, Fame, Time, Eternity
Triumphus Cupidinis (Triumph of Love)
I
THE SEASON when my sighing is renewed Had come, stirring the memory of that day Whereon my love and suffering began.
The sun was warming one and the other horn Of Taurus, and Tithonus’ youthful bride Sped in the coolness to her wonted station;
Springtime and love and scorn and tearfulness Again had brought me to that Vale Enclosed Where from my heart its heavy burdens fall;
And there, amid the grasses, faint from weeping, O’ercome with sleep, I saw a spacious light Wherein were ample grief and little joy.
A leader, conquering and supreme, I saw, Such as triumphal chariots used to bear To glorious honour on the Capitol.
Never had I beheld a sight like this — Thanks to the sorry age in which I live, Bereft of valor, and o’erfilled with pride —
And I, desirous evermore to learn, Lifted my weary eyes, and gazed upon This scene, so wondrous and so beautiful
Four steeds I saw, whiter than whitest snow, And on a fiery car a cruel youth With bow in hand and arrows at his side.
No fear had he, nor armor wore, nor shield, But on his shoulders he had two great wings Of a thousand hues; his body was all bare.
And round about were mortals beyond count: Some of them were but captives, some were slain, And some were wounded by his pungent arrows.
Eager for tidings, I moved toward the throng, So that I came near to becoming one Of those who by his hand had lost their lives.
Then I moved closer still, to see if any I recognized among the pressing host Following the king ne’er satisfied with tears.
None did I seem to know; for if there were Among them any I had known, their looks Were changed by death or fierce captivity.
Toward me there came a spirit somewhat less Distressed than the others, calling me by name, And saying: “These are the gains of those who love!”
Wond’ring, I said to him: “How knowest thou My face? for thee I cannot recognize.” And he: “The heavy bonds that weigh me down
Prevent thee, and the dimness of the air. But I am a friend to thee, and I was born, As thou, within the land of Tuscany.”
His words and the noble manner of his speech Revealed to me what his changed looks had hidden. So we took seat in a high and open place;
And he began: “Long have I thought to see Thee here among us: from thine early years Thy life foretold that this would be thy fate.”
” ‘Twas even so; but then the toils of love Dismayed me so that I abandoned them, My garments and my heart already rent.”
When I had spoken, and when he had heard My answer, not without a smile he said: “Oh my son, what a flame is lit for thee!”
I did not understand him then, but now So surely in my head his words are fixed That ne’er more deeply was aught writ in marble.
And in the boldness of my youth-when mind And tongue are quick in utterance-I asked: “Pray, of your courtesy, what folk are these?”
“Ere long,” he answered, “thou thyself shalt know, Thyself being one of them: thou knowest not How firm a bond is being made for thee.
Thy looks shall fade, and white shall be thy hair, Before the bond I speak of is unloosed, However much thy neck and feet rebel.
And yet, to satisfy thy youthful wish, I’ll answer, telling of our master first, Who rives ~s thus of life and liberty.
For this is he whom the world calleth Love: Bitter, thou see’st, as thou wilt see more clearly When he shall be thy lord, as he is ours
Gentle in youth and fierce as he grows old, As who makes trial knows, and thou shalt know In less than a thousand years, I prophesy.
Idleness gave him birth, and wantonness, And he was nursed by sweet and gentle thoughts, And a vain folk made him their lord and god.
Some of his captives die forthwith; and some More pitilessly ruled, live out their lives Under a thousand chains and a thousand keys.
He who so lordly and so proud appears, First of us all, is Caesar, whom in Egypt Cleopatra bound, amid the flowers and grass.
Now over him there is triumph; and ‘tis well, Since he, though conqueror of the world, was vanquished, That Love, who vanquished him, should have the glory.
Next comes his son—he too was one who loved, Although more nobly — Caesar Augustus he, Who took his Livia from her generous spouse.
The third is Nero, pitiless and unjust: See how he marches full of wrath and scorn. A woman conquered him, strong though he seems.
See the good Marcus, worthy of all praise, His tongue and heart full of philosophy And yet Faustina bends him to her will.
Those two who walk in fear and in suspicion Are Dionysius and that Alexander Whose jealous thoughts led him unto his death.
The next is he who by Antandros wept Creusa’s death, and took another bride From that same prince who slew Evander’s son.
Thou wilt have heard of one who would not yield To a stepmother’s passionate pursuit And gained through flight escape from her entreaties:
And yet his chaste and rightful steadfastness Brought him to death: for to such hatred turned The love of Phaedra, terrible and malign.
Herself she slew, perchance avenging thus Theseus, Hippolytus, and Ariadne, Who, as thou know’st, sped, loving, to her death.
Blaming another, one condemns oneself: For he who takes delight in fraudulence May not lament if he too be deceived.
Behold then Theseus, captive, though so famed, Led between sisters twain who both met death: One set her love on him, he loved the other.
With him is Hercules: for all his strength Love captured him. Achilles follows on, who in his loving met with bitter grief
That is Demophoon, and that is Phyllis; And that is Jason: with him is Medea, Who followed him, and Love, o’er land and sea,
To father and to brother pitiless, And toward her lover wild and fierce, as though She might be thus more worthy of his love.
Hypsipyle comes after, and bemoans The barbarous love that reft her of her own. And then comes she who bears the vaunt of beauty,
The shepherd with her from whose fateful sight Of her fair face came the tempestuous storms That with their raging overturned the world.
And then Oenone thou may’st hear lament For Paris; and for Helen, Menelaus. Hermione for her Orestes calls,
Laodamia for Protesilaus. Argia, faithfully, for Polynices, Unlike Amphiaraus’ covetous wife.
Hark to the sighs and weeping, hark to the cries Of these poor loving ones, who gave their souls Into the power of him who leads them thus.
Nor could I ever name them all to thee: Not only human folk but gods are here, Filling the shadows of the myrtle grove.
See lovely Venus, and with her see Mars, His feet and arms and neck laden with chains. Yonder are Pluto and Proserpina.
Behold the jealous Juno, and the blond Apollo, who once scorned the youthful bow That dealt him such a wound in Thessaly.
What shall I say? To put it briefly, then, All Varro’ s gods are here as prisoners, And, burdened with innumerable bonds, Before the chariot goes Jupiter
II
Weary with gazing, yet unsatisfied, I turned now this way and now that, and saw Sights time will not suffice me to relate.
My mind was moving on from thought to thought When it was drawn to two who side by side Were walking, and together gently weeping.
‘Twas their strange dress that made me notice them; Their foreign speech I could not understand Until my friend interpreted for me.
And when I knew their names, I went to them With more assurance: one of them for Rome Felt friendliness-the other nought but hate.
To one I spoke: “O noble Masinissa, For Scipio’s sake, and your companion’s sake, Be not offended, prithee, by my words.”
Looking at me, he said: “Fain would I know Who thou mayst be, that so unerringly Both of my dear affections hast discerned.”
“I am not worthy to be known,” I said, “By such a knower: this slight flame of mine Hath not the power to cast its light so far.
Thy royal fame extends throughout the world, And binds to thee with the fair bond of love Folk who have never seen thee, nor shall see.
Now tell me, as ye hope for peace to come (I pointed to their Leader), who ye are, Ye twain, who seem to be of wondrous faith.”
“Thy tongue, that is so ready with my name, Proves that thou know’st already who we are,” Said he, “but I will speak to ease my grief
To that great man so heartily allied Was I that not e’en Laelius loved him more: Where.er his banners led, I followed them.
Fortune to him was ever generous, Yet not beyond the measure of the worth That filled his soul past all comparison.
After the Roman arms so gloriously Had spread their victories into the West, There Love found us and joined us, who are one.
Never was sweeter flame in two hearts lit, Nor shall be. Nights too few, alas, Were for our great desires so brief and scarce
(In vain, for us, our solemn marriage vow) That all the goodly reasons for our love And the sacred bond itself came soon to nought.
For Scipio-worthier than all the world With holy words bade us to separate, Nor could he heed the pity of our sighing.
And though it brought and brings me bitter dole, Yet virtue shone in him so marvelously That one is blind who cannot see that sun.
To those who love, high justice is high doom; And thus the verdict of so great a friend Stood like a rock to thwart enduring love.
Father in honour, he to me; a son In love; in years a brother: I obeyed, With breaking heart and countenance distressed.
So then this dear one came unto her death: For, being subject to an alien foe, She chose to die rather than live a slave.
And I of mine own grief was minister, For she so passionately entreated me That I, who suffered that she might not suffer,
Sent her the poison -with such sorrowing thought As she well knows and I remember well, And thou mayst know, if thou too knowest love.
All my inheritance from my bride was grief: Herself, and every happiness and hope, I chose to lose, to keep my faith with her.
But see now if thou findest in this dance Aught that is worthy of note, for the time is short And thou hast more to see than the day can show.”
O’erwhelmed with pity, thinking of the brief Time granted to the love of such a pair, My heart was like to snow that melts i’ the sun,
When, as they started on again, I heard: “This man is friendly in himself, I ween, Yet for all Romans have I nought but hate.”
“Put now thy heart in peace, O Sophonisba, For by our hands the Carthage that was thine Hath fallen thrice, and will not rise again.”
But she replied: “Tell me another tale: Africa wept; but Rome had little cause For laughter-as your histories will confess.”
Then he who had loved both her and us moved on, Smiling, with her, amid the mighty throng, And presently they passed beyond my sight.
As one who travels by a doubtful road And stops at every step, and looks about And ponders, hesitant and slow to move,
E’ en so the train of lovers made my steps Unsure and halting: for I sought to know With what a fire each burned, and how intense.
I saw one to the left and out of line, Like to a man who something seeks and finds Wherefrom both shame and joy may come to him.
To give to another man one’s own dear spouse: Oh utmost love, unheard-of courtesy! So that she too ashamed and joyous seemed
For the exchange: and all three onward moved Talking together of their cherished loves, And sighing for the land of Syria.
I went to the three spirits, who together Were following a pathway of their own, And to the first I said, “I pray thee, wait!”
Hearing the accents of my Latin speech, Troubled in countenance, he stayed his steps; And then, as though perceiving my desire,
He said: “I am Seleucus, and this is My son Antiochus, who warred with you But right avails not against greater strength.
And she who is with us was first my wife And then was his: for lest he die of love To him I gave her, as in our land I might.
Stratonica she is named; and as thou see’st We are not divided: by that very sign Our love is manifest as strong and firm.
She was content to leave me, queen no more; I to leave my delight; and he his life: Each thought another far the worthier.
He would have perished in the flower of youth But for the wisdom of his good physician, Who understood the cause of his distress.
Loving in silence, he was. near to death Constrained by love, silently virtuous Mine was paternal love, that succored him.”
These words he spoke: then turned and started on, Like to a man moved by a new intent, So quickly that I scarce could say farewell.
After the spirit passed beyond my sight, Leaving me pensive, I moved onward, sighing, My heart still meditating on his words,
Until a voice said to me: “Give no more Heed to this single thought: there is much else To see, and, as thou know’st, the time is short.”
More were the lovers here, captive and bare, Than all the soldiers Xerxes led to Greece The host extending farther than my sight.
Of many tongues and many lands they were. Hardly of one in a thousand did I learn The name; and of those few my tale shall be.
Perseus was there, from whom I sought to know Of the Ethiopian maiden whom he loved, Andromeda, dark of eye and dark of hair.
There the vain lover was who through desire Of his own mirrored beauty was undone, Poor only in that he possessed too much
A blossom he became, that bears no fruit, And she who, loving him, a floating voice Became, her gentle body turned to stone.
There too was Iphis, quick to his own ill, Who, loving vainly, hated his own life; And many more who knew like suffering,
Folk crossed in love who had no wish to live. Moderns I saw among them, but to tell Their unrenowned names I will not stay.
Those two were there whom Love companions made Forever, Ceyx and Halcyone, Nest-builders by the sea in winter’s calm.
Near to these twain I beheld Aesacus Seeking Hesperia-now on rocky shore, Now under sea, now flying through mid air.
The cruel daughter of Nisus there I saw, Swift in her flight; and Atalanta running, By golden apples vanquished, and the beauty
Of her Hippomenes: his rivals all Lost both the fateful race and their own lives, And he alone could boast of victory.
Among these vain and fabled loves I saw Acis, with Galatea in his arms, And Polyphemus roaring in his wrath.
I saw the sea-borne Glaucus in the throng Without her who alone was dear to him, And heard him name one who had loved too well;
Canens and Picus, erst a Latian king And now a bird-and she who wrought the change Left him his name and his fair royal robe.
I saw Egeria weeping; and beheld Scylla transformed into a rugged rock That menaces the sea of Sicily;
And her who with a quill in her right hand Writes as one overwhelmed with desperate grief, And in her left hand holds the dagger dose;
Pygmalion, with his statue come to life; And many more whose names had oft been sung By Helicon and the Castalian spring; And fair Cydippe, whom an apple won.
Links
- https://petrarch.petersadlon.com/read_trionfi.html?page=I-I.en - for the full poem.