Explore "Amor Con Sue Promesse Lusingando" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
LOVE CHAINS ARE STILL DEAR TO HIM.
By promise fair and artful flattery / Me Love contrived in prison old to snare, / And gave the keys to her my foe in care, / Who in self-exile dooms me still to lie.
Alas! his wiles I knew not until I / Was in their power, so sharp yet sweet to bear, / (Man scarce will credit it although I swear) / That I regain my freedom with a sigh, / And, as true suffering captives ever do, / Carry of my sore chains the greater part, / And on my brow and eyes so writ my heart / That when she witnesseth my cheek's wan hue / A sigh shall own: if right I read his face, / Between him and his tomb but small the space!
MACGREGOR.