Introduction to Literature and Arts

Sonnet #3 "It was the Morning"

Prose paraphrase

It was the morning of the blessed day

Whereon the sun in pity veiled his glare

For the Lord's agony, that, unaware,

I fell a captive, Lady, to the sway

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It was in the morning of the blessed Good Friday (Apr.6, 1327) that I, unknowingly, fell a captive to the sway of your swift eyes. At that time, the sun, in pity for God's agony, veiled his glare.

Of your swift eyes: that seemed no time to stay

The strokes of Love: I stepped into the snare

Secure, with no suspicion: then, and there

I found my cue in man's most tragic play

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I seemed to have no time to resist the stroke of Cupid (the god of love), so with no suspicion, and feeling secure, I stepped into the snare of love. It was then and there that I found my cue in man's most tragic play.

Love caught me naked to his shaft, his sheaf,

The entrance of his ambush and surprise

Against the heart wide open through the eyes,

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Cupid caught me and found me naked to his shaft and sheaf. My eyes became the entrances for his ambush and surprise, and the wide-open gate to my heart (and your eyes became my gate to your heart).

The constant gate and fountain of my grief:

How craven so to strike me stricken so,

Yet from you fully armed conceal his bow!

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However, your eyes (and my eyes) were the fountain of my grief. How carving I was! Concealing from his full-armed bow, Cupid strikes me stricken.

Sonnet #292 "The Eyes That Drew from Me"

Prose paraphrase

The eyes that drew from me such fervent praise,

The arms and hands and feet and countenance

Which make me a stranger in my own romance

And set me apart from the well-trodden ways;

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The eyes that drew such fervent praise from me, the arms and hands and feet and outlook which made me a stranger in my own romance, and set me apart from the well-trodden ways,

The gleaming golden curly hair, the rays

Flashing from a smiling angel's glance

Which moved the world in paradisal dance,

Are grains of dust, insensibility

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the gleaming golden curly hair, and rays flashing from a smiling angel's glance which move the world in joyous dance, are now grains of dust, insensible to me.

And I live on, but in grief and self-contempt,

Left here without the light I loved so much,

In a great tempest and with shrouds unkempt.

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And I was still alive, but lived in grief and self-contempt and was left here without the light I loved so much. I was left in a great tempest with a untidy shrouds.

No more love songs, then, I have done with such;

My old skill now runs thin at each attempt,

And tears are heard within the harp I touch.

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I will write love songs no more; I had done enough. My old poetic skill now become weak at each attempt, and tear are heard within the harp of mourning and wailing.

Sonnet #62 "Father in Heaven"

Prose paraphrase

Father in heaven, after each lost day,

Each night spent raving with that fierce desire

Which in my heart has kindle fire

Seeing your acts adorned for my dismay;

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Father in heaven, after each lost day of my unrequited love and each night spent raving with the fierce desire in my heart which has kindled into fire, your sacrifices seems to adorn my unredeeming passion.

Grant henceforth that I turn, within your light

To another life and deeds more truly fair,

So having spread to no avail the snare

My bitter foe might hold it in despite.

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Henceforth, please grant my with Your grace that I may turn to another life (Laura) and more truly fair deeds. In this way, my bitter passion might hold my heart in despite because it has spread its snare for me in vain.

The eleventh year, my Lord, has now come round

Since I was yoked beneath the heavy trace

That on the meekest weights most cruelly.

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My Lord, eleven years have passed since I first met Laura. From then on, I have been bound beneath the heavy trace of you. And Love binds the meekest person most cruelly.

Pity the abject plight where I am found;

Return my straying thoughts to a nobler place;

Show them this day you were on Calvary.

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My Lord, please pity my unworthy sorrow, and return my straying thoughts to a more worthy place; and show to my passion that You, too was on the Cross.

Grant henceforth that I turn, within your light

To another life and deeds more truly fair,

So having spread to no avail the snare

My bitter foe might hold it in despite.

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Henceforth, Laura please grant me with Your love (which is my light) and turn me to another life which is paradise and requite my love with more truly fair deeds. In this way, my bitter passion might hold my heart in despite because it has spread its snare for me in vain.

Pity the abject plight where I am found;

Return my straying thoughts to a nobler place;

Show them this day you were on Calvary.

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Laura, please pity my unworthy sorrow, and return my straying thoughts to a more worthy place; and show to my passion that it was also on the Cross.