Explore "Del Mar Tirreno Alla Sinistra Riva" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE FALL.
Upon the left shore of the Tyrrhene sea, / Where, broken by the winds, the waves complain, / Sudden I saw that honour'd green again, / Written for whom so many a page must be: / Love, ever in my soul his flame who fed, / Drew me with memories of those tresses fair; / Whence, in a rivulet, which silent there / Through long grass stole, I fell, as one struck dead.
Lone as I was, 'mid hills of oak and fir, / I felt ashamed; to heart of gentle mould / Blushes suffice: nor needs it other spur. / 'Tis well at least, breaking bad customs old, / To change from eyes to feet: from these so wet / By those if milder April should be met.
MACGREGOR.