Petrarch - Alma felice, che sovente torni lyrics

HE THANKS HER THAT FROM TIME TO TIME SHE RETURNS TO CONSOLE HIM WITH HER PRESENCE O blessed spirit! who dost oft return, Ministering comfort to my nights of woe, From eyes which d**h, relenting in his blow, Has lit with all the lustres of the morn: How am I gladden'd, that thou dost not scorn O'er my dark days thy radiant beam to throw! Thus do I seem again to trace below Thy beauties, hovering o'er their loved sojourn. There now, thou seest, where long of thee had been My sprightlier strain, of thee my plaint I swell— Of thee!—oh, no! of mine own sorrows keen. One only solace cheers the wretched scene: By many a sign I know thy coming well— Thy step, thy voice and look, and robe of favour'd green. Wrangham. When welcome slumber locks my torpid frame, I see thy spirit in the midnight dream; Thine eyes that still in living lustre beam: In all but frail mortality the same. Ah! then, from earth and all its sorrows free, Methinks I meet thee in each former scene: Once the sweet shelter of a heart serene; Now vocal only while I weep for thee. For thee!—ah, no! From human ills secure. Thy hallow'd soul exults in endless day; 'Tis I who linger on the toilsome way: No balm relieves the anguish I endure; Save the fond feeble hope that thou art near To soothe my sufferings with an angel's tear. Anne Bannerman.