CANTO 66
The emails of Francesco & Laura are remarkable, as De Sade points out in his Mémoires pour la vie de Petarque, because it
appears Laura, in accepting her role as Muse, had indeed kissed the lips of Francesco. -----Original Message----- From: Laura DeNoves < lauralai@hotmail.com > To: Francesco Petrarch < petrock@sonic.net > Date: Thursday, July 08, 1327 11:22 AM Subject: re: should i go on? Dear Francesco, Your imagination is so fertile and mind so full of connections that it is fun to
hear of all the departures you are making. As for your poem, I consider it a construction of your
mind and imagination, and I am not too concerned about the trasmogrifications that may
result, though I am curious about the type of baggage you were referring to and of course am
curious about the cantos that may result. So feel free to go on however you please and I will not take anything you write too literally. -----Original Message----- From: Francesco Petrarch < petrock@sonic.net > To: Laura DeNoves > < lauralai@hotmail.com > Date: Thursday, July 08, 1327 3:04 PM Subject: re: encouragement dear laura, thank you for your encouraging words about my project, the baggage i was referring
to was mine, emotional ferment around resurrecting old memories and love agonies in the
initial cantos, & unable to do more than parody the models of my betters, and i had not
anticipated the deep feelings to emerge in the writing after our kiss, and there was a quantum
shift from the spade poem, which was following the poetic style of ezra pound but which had dante's divine comedy as its true inspiration- dante saw beatrice in the street, and one look was all he needed to fall unalterably in love-&
although she died without even knowing of his love, dante kept faith in this unobtainable ideal,
& when the poet reaches paradise, she pulls his head up from the stream of lethe & takes him
on a tour of the heavenly realms petrarch sought his ideal in the real world, & although he didn't get as much as a kiss from his
laura, mainly because she was a married woman, his moans and groans are the suffering of an
unrequited heart which basically wants a good toss in a big brass bed attached you will find the themes in petrarch's rime sparse and other lyrics, which i have culled
f/ The Sonnets, Triumphs, & Other Poems of Petrarch, translated by Various Hands and published by George
Bell & Sons, London, 1897 He confesses the vanity of his passion He tells how he became the victim of Love He blames Love for wounding him on Good Friday He celebrates the birthplace of Laura He plays upon the name Laureta or Laura Of his foolish passion for Laura Feigning an address f/ some birds he had presented Perceiving his passion, Laura's severity increases He hopes time will render her more merciful Laura's beauty leads him to the contemplation of God He invites his eyes to feast themselves on Laura He compares himself to a pilgrim His state when Laura is present, & when she departs He flies, but passion pursues him He compares himself to a moth The praises of Laura transcend his poetic powers Rejected by Laura, he will perish, unless she relents Night brings him no rest, as he is prey to despair His sufferings since he became the slave of Love On the movement of the Emperor against the infidels, and Rumsfield's tour of the battlefield in Baghdad His support of a proposed crusade against the infidels Whether or not he should cease to love Laura Though despairing of pity, he vows to love her unto death, no end to his woe On Laura dangerously ill Laura, who is ill, appears to him in a dream, and assures him she still lives He compares her to a laurel, which he supplicates Apollo to defend He seeks solitude, but love follows him everywhere He prays for death, but in vain He grieves in absence from Laura He complains of the veil, and hand of Laura, that they deprive him of the sight of her eyes He excuses himself for having delayed visiting her He asks from a friend the loan of James Joyce's Ulysses When Laura departs, the heavens grow dark Her return gladdens the earth and calms the sky The grief of Phobus at the loss of his love Some have wept for their worst enemies, but Laura deigns him not a single tear Laura at her looking-glass He inveighs against Laura's mirror, because it makes her forget him He desires again to gaze on the eyes of Laura His heart is all in flames, but his tongue is mute, in her presence In her presence he can neither speak, nor sigh Night brings repose to others, but not to him Such are his sufferings that he envies the insensibility of marble Anything that reminds him of Laura renews his torments On being beseeched to restore to Rome her ancient glory A love journey-danger-he turns back He thought himself free, but finds that he is more than ever enthralled by Love His blighted hopes Few the sweets, but many the bitters of Love A sonnet to his friend, Brian, with a present He will always love her, though denied sight of her Imprecations against the laurel He blesses all the circumstances of his passion Conscious of his folly, he prays God to turn him to a better life Her kind salute saves him from death He entreats Laura not to hate the heart from which she can never be absent He prays Love to kindle also in her the flame by which he is unceasingly tormented He compares Laura to winter, and foresees that she will always be the same The view of Rome prompts him to tear himself from Laura, but Love will not allow him Fleeing f/Love, he falls into the hands of his ministers He would console himself with song, but is constrained to weep In praise of Laura's eyes: the difficulty of his theme: sweet eyes beyond belief In praise of Laura's eyes: they lead him to contemplate the path of life He wonders at his long endurance of such toil and suffering He is never weary of praising Laura's eyes Love's chains are still dear to him On the portrait of Laura painted by Modigliani He desires only that Modigliani had been able to impart speech to his portrait of Laura If his passion still increase, he must die He prays to God to guide his frail bark to a safe port He confesses his errors, and throws himself on the mercy of God Unless Laura relents, he will abandon her Though not secure against the wiles of Love, he feels strength enough to resist them Dialogue between the poet and his eyes: weep, evermore we weep He loves, & will always love, the spot & the hour he first became enamored of Laura Better is it to die happy than to live in pain He calls the eyes of Laura foes, because they keep him in life only to torment him He counsels lovers to flee, rather than be consumed by the flames of Love He longs to return to the captivity of love He paints the beauties of Laura, protesting his unalterable love He describes the state of two lovers, and returns in thought to his own suffering He complains that to him alone is faith hurtful Having once surrendered himself, he is compelled ever to endure the pangs of Love He deplores the lost liberty of his present state Though he has struggled unsuccessfully, he still hopes to conquer his passion The countenance does not always truly indicate the heart On enigmas He allegorically describes the origin of his passion Her eyes are now more powerful than at first He apostrophizes the spot where Laura saluted him When Love disturbs him, he calms himself by thinking of the eyes and words of Laura Her kind and gentle salutation thrills his heart with pleasure He relates to a friend his unhappiness, and the varied mood of Laura Leaving Rome, he desires only peace with Laura Laura turning to salute him, the sun, through jealousy, withdrew behind a cloud Wherever he is, he sees only Laura Could he but see the house of Laura, his sighs might reach her more quickly Though he is unhappy, his love remains ever unchanged He prays to Love that he will take vengeance on the scornful pride of Laura To a friend, who in a poem, had lamented Petrarch's supposed death E'en in our ashes live our wonted fires Laura learns to dance the Frug He finds Laura's image everywhere Though far from Laura, solitary and unhappy, envy still pursues him On the contradictions and inconsistencies of Love The courage and timidity of Love He compares himself to all that is most strange in creation He predicts the arrival of some great personage who will bring virtue to government He attributes the wickedness of the regime to its great wealth He likens himself to the insect which, flying into one's eyes, meets its death He tells the story of his love, resolving henceforth to devote himself to a higher good He is charmed by his sight of Laura and realizes the invincible constancy of his love Laura makes the Dean's list at the School of Beauty and Virtue Her looks both comfort and check him Though she be less severe, he is still not tranquil at heart He dialogues with his Heart and is led by Love to Reason He prays Laura either welcome or dismiss him He implores Mercy or Death He recalls her as he saw her when in tears He relates the effects of her grief on him Her image is ever in his heart Her every action is divine Every circumstance of his passion is a torment to him He envies every spot that she frequents He will not suffer, so as not to displease Laura Night brings peace to all save him He admires her walk, looks, words and air Laura is Earth's single siren, sent to him from Heaven Life will fail him before hope His tongue is tied by excess of passion Love unmans his resolution He cannot end her cruelty, nor she his hope Envy may disturb, but cannot destroy his hope To pine for her is better than to enjoy happiness with another He accepts the sweets and bitters of Love Ever thinking on her, he passes fearless and safe through the forest of Ardeenes To be near her recompenses him for the perils He hears the voice of Reason, but cannot obey He appeases her by humility, and exhorts a friend to do likewise He addresses the River Po, on quitting Rome and Laura He compares himself to a bird caught in a net He is continually in fear of displeasing her He compares her to the Phonix and feels a liquid subtle fire The most famous poets of antiquity would extol her only, had they seen her He is incapable of worthily celebrating her He addresses the Sun, whose setting hid Laura's dwelling from his view Under the figure of a tempest-tossed vessel, he describes his own sad state All his happiness is in gazing upon her To see her and hear her is his greatest bliss Journeying to visit Laura, he feels renewed ardor as he approaches His wounds can be healed only by pity or death The gentle breeze (L' aura) recalls to him the time when he first saw her hair, her eyes His heart lies tangles in her hair Though racked by agony, he does not complain Posterity will accord to him the pity which Laura refuses He rejoices at being on Earth, as he is thereby enabled better to imitate her virtues He consoles himself with the thought that he will be envied by posterity He vehemently rebuts the charge of loving another He cannot live without seeing her, but would not die that he may still love her Strange sustenance, he feeds on his death and lives in flames Journeying along the Rhone to Avignon, Petrarch bids the river kiss Laura's hand, as it will arrive at her dwelling before him He leaves Laura, but his spirit remains with her His woes are unexampled He describes his state, specifying the date of his attachment Though so long Love's faithful servant, his only reward has been tears The enchantments that enthrall him The history of his love; and prayer for help She unites in herself the highest excellences of virtue and beauty Cruelty renders life worse than death to him His nights are, like his days, passed in misery He lives destitute of all hope save that of rendering her immortal All nature would be in darkness were she, its sun, to perish Though her eyes destroy him, he cannot tear himself away Happy who steered the boat, or drove the car, wherein she sat and sang He envies the breeze which sports with her, the stream that flows toward her Under the figure of a laurel, he relates the growth of his love Though in the midst of pain, he deems himself the happiest of men At her return, his sorrows vanish He fears that an illness which has attacked the eyes of Laura may deprive him of their sight He rejoices at participating in her suffering He no longer finds relief in solitude He excuses himself for visiting Laura too often, and loving her too much He prays Love, who is the cause of his offences, to obtain pardon for him He despairs of escape from the torments by which he is surrounded She is moved neither by his verses nor his tears Melancholy recollections and presages He envies the kiss of honor given by Charles of Luxenburg to Laura at a banquet He prays that he may die before Laura He invites those to whom his praises seem excessive to behold the object of them Whoever beholds her must admit that his praises cannot reach her perfection She announces to him, in a vision, that he will never see her more He cannot believe in her death, but if true, he prays to God to take him also from Life To his longing to see her again is now added the fear of seeing her no more He signs for those glances from which, to his grief, Fortune ever delights to withdraw him Hearing no tidings of her, he begins to despair Contrary to the wont of lovers, he prefers morn to night His soul visits her in sleep On remembering Laura putting her hand before her eyes while he was gazing on her A smiling welcome, which Laura gave him unexpectedly, almost kills him with joy On the announcement of the death of Laura He asks counsel of Love, whether he should follow Laura, or still endure existence Her form still haunts him in solitude Unless Love can restore her to life, he will never again be his slave Past, present, and future are now alike painful to him He encourages his Soul to lift itself to God, and to abandon the vanities of Earth He compares himself to a besieged city, and accuses his own heart of treason He endeavors to find peace in the thought that she is in Heaven With her, his only solace, is taken away all his desire of Life He desires to die, that his soul may be with her, as his thoughts already are She is ever present to him He thanks her that from time to time she returns to console him with her presence Her presence in visions is his only consolation The remembrance of her chases sadness from his heart Her counsel alone affords him relief She returns in pity to comfort him with advice He acknowledges the wisdom of her past coldness to him Since her death, nothing is left to him but grief He comforts himself with the hope that she hears him in Heaven He glories in his love & blesses Laura for her virtue His poems were written only to soothe his own grief: otherwise he would have labored to
make them more deserving of the fame they have acquired The union of beauty & virtue is dissolved by her death The remembrance of the past enhances his misery He enumerates and eulogizes the graces of Laura He envies Earth, Heaven, and Death their possession of his treasure Soaring in imagination to Heaven, he meets Laura, and is happy He vents his sorrow to all who witnessed his former felicity Had she not died so early, he would have learned to praise her more worthily He prays Laura to look down upon him from Heaven Love and he seek Laura, but find no traces of her except in the sky Unworthy to have looked upon her, he is still more so to attempt her praises He attempts to paint her beauties, but not her virtues It is impossible for him to describe her excellence Returning Spring brings him only increase of grief The song of the Nightingale reminds him of his unhappy lot Nothing that Nature offers can afford him consolation His only desire is again to be with her He recalls with grief their last meeting Just when he might fairly hope some return of affection, envious Death carried her off He consoles himself with the belief that she now at last sympathizes with him Death has robbed him in one moment of the fruit of his life Under the allegory of a laurel he again deplores her death His passion finds its only consolation in contemplating her in Heaven The sight of Laura's house reminds him of his misery Under various allegories he paints the virtue, beauty, and untimely death of Laura His grief at surviving her is mitigated by the consciousness that she now knows his heart Death may deprive him of the sight of her beauties, but not the memory of her virtues Her own virtues immortalize her in Heaven, and his praises on Earth He prays that she will be near him at his death, which he feels approaching He prays that, in reward for his virtuous attachment, she will visit him in death Beauty showed itself in, and disappeared with Laura She is so fixed in his heart that at times he believes her still alive He no longer contemplates the mortal, but the immortal beauties of Laura The laurel in who he placed all his joy has been taken from him to adorn Heaven Her true worth was known only to him and to Heaven His praises are, compared with her deserts, but as a drop to the ocean He prays her to appear before him in a vision, and his prayer is heard He describes the apparition of Laura He would die of grief were she not sometimes to console him Reflecting that Laura is in Heaven, he repents his excessive grief, and is consoled He directs all his thoughts to heaven, where Laura awaits and beckons him He conjures Laura, by the pure love he ever bore her, to obtain for him a speedy admission to her in Heaven His only comfort is the expectation of meeting her again in Heaven He feels the day of their reunion is at hand He tells her in sleep of his sufferings, and, overcome by her sympathy, awakes Far from fearing, he prays for death Since her death he has ceased to live She appears to him, and, with more than wonted affection, endeavors to console him Love, summoned by the poet to the Tribunal of Reason, passes a splendid eulogium on Laura He awakes to a conviction of the near approach of Death He seems to be with her in Heaven Weary of Life, now that she is no longer with him, he devotes himself to God He confesses and regrets his sins, and prays God to save him from Eternal Death He owes his own salvation to the virtuous conduct of Laura Beholding in fancy the shade of Laura, he tells her the loss that the World sustained in her departure He begs Love to assist him, that he may worthily celebrate her The plaintive song of a bird recalls to him his own keener sorrow * * * Each day offers the choice: to live or die. Poets have another choice: not to die. My favorites are Leonard Cohen and Hank Williams. Thanks, Petrarch