Explore "Ite, Caldi Sospiri, Al Freddo Core" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
HE IMPLORES MERCY OR DEATH.
Go, my warm sighs, go to that frozen breast, / Burst the firm ice, that charity denies; / And, if a mortal prayer can reach the skies, / Let death or pity give my sorrows rest! / Go, softest thoughts! Be all you know express'd / Of that unnoticed by her lovely eyes, / Though fate and cruelty against me rise, / Error at least and hope shall be repress'd.