Explore "O Dolci Sguardi, o Parolette Accorte" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
HE SIGHS FOR THOSE GLANCES FROM WHICH, TO HIS GRIEF, FORTUNE EVER / DELIGHTS TO WITHDRAW HIM.
O angel looks! O accents of the skies! / Shall I or see or hear you once again? / O golden tresses, which my heart enchain, / And lead it forth, Love's willing sacrifice! / O face of beauty given in anger's guise, / Which still I not enjoy, and still complain! / O dear delusion! O bewitching pain! / Transports, at once my punishment and prize! / If haply those soft eyes some kindly beam / (Eyes, where my soul and all my thoughts reside) / Vouchsafe, in tender pity to bestow; / Sudden, of all my joys the murtheress tried, / Fortune with steed or ship dispels the gleam; / Fortune, with stern behest still prompt to work my woe.