I' Piansi, or Canto; Che 'L Celeste Lume

AT HER RETURN, HIS SORROWS VANISH.

I wept, but now I sing; its heavenly light / That living sun conceals not from my view, / But virtuous love therein revealeth true / His holy purposes and precious might; / Whence, as his wont, such flood of sorrow springs / To shorten of my life the friendless course, / Nor bridge, nor ford, nor oar, nor sails have force / To forward mine escape, nor even wings.

But so profound and of so full a vein / My suff'ring is, so far its shore appears, / Scarcely to reach it can e'en thought contrive: / Nor palm, nor laurel pity prompts to gain, / But tranquil olive, and the dark sky clears, / And checks my grief and wills me to survive.

MACGREGOR.