Petrarch - Io pensava a**ai destro esser sull' ale lyrics

UNWORTHY TO HAVE LOOKED UPON HER, HE IS STILL MORE SO TO ATTEMPT HER PRAISES I thought me apt and firm of wing to rise (Not of myself, but him who trains us all) In song, to numbers fitting the fair thrall Which Love once fasten'd and which d**h unties. Slow now and frail, the task too sorely tries, As a great weight upon a s**er small: "Who leaps," I said, "too high may midway fall: Man ill accomplishes what Heaven denies." So far the wing of genius ne'er could fly— Poor style like mine and faltering tongue much less— As Nature rose, in that rare fabric, high. Love follow'd Nature with such full success In gracing her, no claim could I advance Even to look, and yet was bless'd by chance. Macgregor.