L' Aspetto Sacro Della Terra Vostra by Francesco Petrarca

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THE VIEW OF ROME PROMPTS HIM TO TEAR HIMSELF FROM LAURA, BUT LOVE WILL / NOT ALLOW HIM.

The solemn aspect of this sacred shore / Wakes for the misspent past my bitter sighs; / 'Pause, wretched man! and turn,' as conscience cries, / Pointing the heavenward way where I should soar.

But soon another thought gets mastery o'er / The first, that so to palter were unwise; / E'en now the time, if memory err not, flies, / When we should wait our lady-love before.

I, for his aim then well I apprehend, / Within me freeze, as one who, sudden, hears / News unexpected which his soul offend.

Returns my first thought then, that disappears; / Nor know I which shall conquer, but till now / Within me they contend, nor hope of rest allow!

MACGREGOR.

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